I moved to Montpelier in August of last year, ready to start afresh: getting to know my new neighbors, learning about the abundant opportunity available to me, creating a new branch on the beautiful tree that is my life. All the stirrings from within that I couldn’t make time for during my work life, are granted the freedom to burst forth at last.
I was so excited to begin my new life right away; but that was not to be, for circumstance intervened and I was called away.
Upon my return, I felt the cloud of missed opportunities for community involvement, pursuit of creative endeavors, and promising new friendships. As happens in the bleakness of winter, many of us go into hibernation. I felt so much disappointment, and isolation, and fear that the roots of my dreams had shriveled.
But hope flickers as the days become longer. The warmth teases. Birdsong fills the neighborhood. The sun travels north along my dramatic view of the ridge, which is proving to be a clock for my days and calendar for the seasons.
As a young child, my dad invited me to stay up with him to watch spring arrive. In my mind, the leaves, flowers, robins sitting on blue eggs, and green grass blew in overnight. To some extent, I still hold on to this expectation. I want what I want when I want it.
I shed the letdown and loneliness of the winter months and realized that my enthusiasm for new beginnings last fall was a little premature. It was more akin to choosing the seeds, planting the bulbs, and accepting with patience that these things take time and happen only when the season is right.
I have learned over the years, that I cycle as the seasons do. I no longer fear that my lack of inspiration and productivity, or that the depth of a particular depression, is everlasting.
For new life springs evermore.
RDW 4-24-18