open to everything~

 kay nielson

"all the seeds beneath the snow start to grow, all the seeds that lie below are the ones we sowed...."

                              ~the wailin' jennys

i've been wishing for snow this winter in a way i haven't since days of dreaming of snow days and the thrill of snow forts and wet snowsuits hanging in the tub to dry. this has not been a winter (so far...) of snowstorm after snowstorm dumping inches and feet of the glittering white, not the winter of shoveling callouses. there have been days when i couldn't see the earth hiding under snow and ice, but not weeks. in fact, when i got home from the grocery store yesterday, my feet sunk into the mud of our driveway, and i felt that slurpy suck, and, yes! smelled the earth. my wishes for snow this year are for different reasons than my wishes as a child. this year i've been wishing for deep snow for protection for the precious seeds i planted in the fall, for the seeds buried deep in my spirit and my soul.

i've been a little worried~ worried that the spring is coming before the winter does its work, that the leaves haven't had time to blend into earth, that the ground hasn't had enough time to rest and restore. sometimes i worry that way. 

From piccsy.com

"i hear a bird chirping up in the sky. 
i'd like to be free like that, spread my wings so high.
i see the river flowing, water running by. i'd like to be that river, see what i might find. 
i feel that wind that blowing slowly changing time. i'd like to be that wind i'd swirl and shape the sky.
i smell the flowers blooming, opening for spring.  i'd like to be those flowers, open to everything. "
              ~the wailin' jennys

and then i remember about being like those flowers, "open to everything". after all, those seeds that we planted deep in the soil in the fall have been resting in the dark. and those seeds that are meant to sprout in strength will. and those that need a hard winter to usher them into spring will wait until the next one of those winters happens. 

Photo by FlynetPictures.com

i saw the movie 'extremely loud and incredibly close" this weekend, and loved the "lesson of the swing". the young boy in the film is scared of going on swings because they "aren't safe." his father (tom hanks) urges him to just try it. here's another one of those images that reassures me when i start to worry if things are going "as they should". sure, it's safe to stand on the ground, and wait for the time to be "just right", but then what about the thrill and TRUST of simply sitting down on the swing, and beginning to feel the swing, the pull, the lift. the flight. the courage to get on and swing in the movie came after a "harsh winter".... perhaps the seeds i planted in the fall won't need that. perhaps they're already stirring, and feeling the impatience of 'when will spring arrive?' perhaps they're ready to feel the warmth and wonder of spring, and light, and new life. 

From ucmoons.tumblr.com

From cargocollective.com

so, i'm climbing on this swing, and i'm feeling the pull of spring coming... even if it is early, even if the winter hasn't been what i thought it might. because i don't need to decide how it should be. i need to decide how i will be. and my seeds? i believe in them and all that is within them. i can't wait to see them peak their heads above the earth and see what an amazing place it is. 

"swing low. sail high!"

        ~the wailin' jennys