By Laura Mills
Last week—nearly one month after my blog about first noticing the buds on the tree outside my window—I noticed a few green grass blades poking through the ground. And each day since, I’ve seen more and more. The bare spots in my yard are filling in, and slowly the flat brown patches are giving way to a much-more-lively green spread. This year, as are most of us, I’m sure, after the record-breaking winter, I’m more excited than ever to observe these changes.
But also, I confess: I couldn’t have wished for a more appropriate year for such a brutal winter and long-awaited spring. I’m glad this happened the winter of 2013-2014. One of the lessons of my yoga practice has been to observe connections between Nature and myself, and for me, the past twelve months have been the most difficult of my life. In spite of all the tremendous good still around me, I’ve spent the vast amount of my time confused and sad. Never before has so much felt so barren; some days, regardless of the meteorological season, I’ve woken up in a state of winter that felt like it would never end.
But even Chicago’s harshest winters don’t last forever. And neither does a human being’s—at least, not a human being with the will to re-germinate and blossom again. Spring, in all its forms, does arrive after winter’s cold and dark. And just like the grass poking up in my yard, I am finally waking up, eager to grow, longing to feel the sunshine, and excited to experience a new life.
Looking forward to spring….