I woke early this morning with the rise of the sun and found my contemplative throne in the heart of my garden. I was surrounded by the nights lingering chill and the early call of the songbird’s elated chatter. I was mesmerized by the refreshing light cast from the power of the great sun, and watched as its rays delicately lay themselves upon each stone, atop each fallen leaf, and along the backs of the China Berry tree branches. As I looked around I saw the remnants’ of a harsh winters mark on my barren landscape. Many of the plants limp and stained from the gripping bite of the desert freeze. Initially, I felt a sense of loss, but it was soon replaced with acceptance as I honored the processes of natural selection and knew that my garden would be a testament to the resilience of nature soon enough. As if acceptance were its own cast of light, I began to see the blooming daisies along the fence line. I looked upon the bare branches of the trees and saw rows and rows of tender green buds. In the base of my flowerpots I saw vibrant green shoots drinking the suns nectar. The jasmine, with her sweet perfume, is making her courageous climb along the trellis, and there is even a plump and promising fig on my sacred birthday tree. I opened myself more to the grace of the moment with a deep sigh of admiration and appreciation, for Spring is clearly making her most marvelous arrival.
In nearly every culture around the world there is reverence to the Spring Equinox. In India, there is Holi the Festival of Colors, in Christianity there is Goddess Easter, the Pagans celebrate Ostara, Buddhists welcome Spring with Higan-E, and indigenous Arizonans practice the Mountain Chant. This is a time for celebrating renewal of the natural world as well as renewal of our inner nature, and the recognition that both are a reflection of one another. I invite you to establish a spring celebration based on your own beliefs and personal inquiries of what this time of year means and represents to you and your unique processes of living and being in the world. (Not to self promote here, but if you do want help, I am always available.)
In October I celebrated my birthday by planting a sacred fig tree and that process was rich in meaning for my personal practices (read to Dream a Fig). My rituals and ceremonies are rooted in nature, as nature is the gateway to my spirituality. I wanted to plant something special for this Spring Equinox and after much thought, I decided that I will be celebrating with a ceremonial planting of the cucumber. The cucumber is significant to me, because a cucumber does not fall or separate from the vine like other fruits. Rather, it will grow, ripen, and perish on the vine, producing the seeds for the next generation of plants without ever leaving the vine. This is symbolic of the cycles of birth, death, and rebirth. To leave the vine, and thus to be freed from the cycle, the cucumber must be picked. At this critical juncture of my life, I am experiencing the need to remove myself from certain conditioned roles and responsibilities (which get perpetuated from one generation to the other) and the harvesting of the cucumber will represent liberation from a cycle of living that limits personal growth. I will honor the birth of the cucumbers and watch them grow, and as I do, I will honor all of the lessons and circumstances that has brought me thus fare. When I remove the cucumber from its vine I will nourish myself with its vows of freedom and I will take its seeds and plant them elsewhere, allowing for a new vine, a new generation and a new process of life.
Spring is a time of rebirth and resurrection, for nature and humans alike. Just as the seeds begin to push their way through the soil to meet the light, so too is the process of self-realization. As we step out of the shadows of a winter that blessed us with deep thought and introspection, we move into the warmth of the awakening sun that sustains our growth, and we are reminded of the light within our own heart and the delicate processes of tending to our own blossoming souls.
Blessings, Namaste, and Aho
Robin Afinowich
