Today it snowed. Two inches of heavy wet snow on this astronomical “first day of spring.”
I got up, made coffee and raisin toast, filled the bird feeders, then headed up to my cozy lair, turned on the space heater and settled in for a long write.
Yesterday a book I had ordered called, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings by John O’Donahue came.
I had come across a poem from this collection recently, and fell in love with it, so I ordered the volume.
And today, while the snow fell softly, and my room filled with warmth, I sat and read it from cover to cover.
And wrote notes to myself so I would not t forget this.
And stared out the window. And thought about my life, and my death, and time and love.
And as the snow continued to fall, I got up and checked the mail, and for the first time in many years there was no letter. And I was sad.
Every year for the past 6 or 7, I have led a Yoga Nidra class on New Year’s Eve and at the end, I offer the people who come the opportunity to write a letter to themselves.
I write one, too. And it always starts like this, “Dear Kath, I have been waiting for you to get really quiet and listen to me because I have so many things I need to talk to you about, darling.”
This is a letter from my soul, my heart, inner wisdom guide. And after yoga nidra, I am so deeply dialed in, that I don’t even write it. I just surrender the pen to her, and she tells me what I really need to know.
When the letter is done, I seal it in an envelope, and collect all the similar sealed, self-addressed letters of the participants, and then mail them all to arrive in mailboxes on the first day of spring.
But this year, I didn’t have the Yoga Nidra class. This year I didn’t write my letter, and so today, there was no letter from my soul.
Maybe that is why the universe sent me the astonishingly beautiful Blessings from John O’Donahue.
Spring has always been my favorite season. From this day until the Summer Solstice, I have always felt, since early childhood, a quickening and a coming to life at this time of year.
Spring does not always have the best weather here where I live in northern Pennsylvania. It is a fickle season of rain and snow. It is a season that teases, then withdraws.
It is often muddy and cold and sullen. But every day is a bit longer than the one before. Every day a new bird arrives at the feeder, a new flower pierces the snow crust.
Tomorrow I think I will write a letter to myself and give it to G to mail to me on the Summer Solstice. I like getting letters from my spirit in the mail.
But for today I would ask that if you are so inclined, order this John O’Donahue book, and read it in your cozy lair. I think you will be amazed. I will leave you with this excerpt from his poem ,A Morning Offering:
May my mind come alive today
To the invisible geography
That invites me to new frontiers.
To break the dead shell of yesterdays,
To risk being disturbed and changed.
May I have the courage today
To live the life that I would love,
To postpone my dream no longer
But do at last what I came here for
And waste my heart on fear no more.