SPRING: the fraying edge

A seasonal package for you: journaling prompts, a guided yoganidra practice, some contemplative music, and poetry from Rilke and Mary Oliver.

At the cardinal turning points of the year, I like to make a little extra time to deep-journal; it helps me find my feeling-tone as the world around me changes. This past winter has felt overly wet and grey and there were times I couldn’t quite get warm to my bones. Coupled with the aptly named spells of “anticyclonic gloom”, I’m rather glad that the Equinox arrived in the Fens with clear skies and temperatures in double figures. So, it’s time to update this seasonal offering for you. I hope you enjoy.

First, what do you see around you? On our dog-walks through the village, we pass a lot of mangnolia trees and I’m noticing that the soft caterpillar buds are almost ready to burst into a flourish of vanilla whites and pinks. I always feel, however, that they are bit too eager too bloom. Late March, early April there will be winds, there will be rains, and the blossoms will fall too soon into piles of faded silk remnants at the foot of the trees. There are always of course ranks of brazen daffodils along the borders and scattered under trees that stand firm in the face of the Fen weather.