Spring's Skin

The seasons are changing. The last two weeks were kissed with snow at daybreak which quickly melted by eleven in the morning. This week has been slightly warmer but grey and wet. The snow is replaced with rain, sleet, and even just the sense that it has rained without actually experiencing the rain itself. Apparently, this is Spring.?. I don't know for sure, but what I do know is that I wake to the sound of geese and also enjoy their calls at dusk, which occurs at approximately 8pm these days. It's an incredible thing to see the sun leave it's mark on the pink clouds at 8 o'clock at night. I am in awe every single day, sometimes multiple times a day. The mountains stand tall with huge, grey clouds looming above them, threatening to wail any minute. Outside my amazing office window, I see birds I have never seen before... tiny little blue birds that flutter quickly as if twitching impulsively; larger black, grey, and red birds that hop around on the ground looking in the dirt for nourishment.

We all know spring is a time of re-birth and ever-changing life and revival. For some reason, though, on this day, I feel as if I am experiencing Spring for the first time. Perhaps its because of the subtleties of the seasons in Texas which often leave a person wondering whether or not there was ever a winter at all. Fall and spring in Texas seem to be a blurred version of the more distinguished summer and winter.... or is Texas winter a blurred version of fall? I hear people who have lived in Montana for a while (or their entire lives) say that this is not quite spring. It seems to me, however, that when you go from the utter silence of a winter, blanketed with snow and few creatures scurrying around for survival to birds chirping and grass slowly turning green again and moss growing in little ponds of melted snow, that spring has in fact arrived. On a recent run, I became irritated with the songs that randomly played on my shuffle (even though I had specifically chosen those songs for running). In between furiously changing songs, I realized that nature was playing it's own soundtrack. The creek I was running along trickled loudly, competing with the little flying creatures' songs of joy and the rustling of a deer dining in the brush.

Things are indeed coming alive in Montana. As am I.

There have been other times in my life when I have said that I have "shed my skin," and yet, I feel like I am shedding yet another layer as I grow increasingly more comfortable in my purpose here. Those unwanted layers that are present at every life transition are being released back into the earth to be a part of the cycle again. All week, I have felt empowered and confident in my work. At times, I felt anxious, but I successfully came back to the present and focused my energy where it needs to be. I have been very aware this week of what my clients need of me.

I started blogging tonight because I realized I needed my own release. I don't know of too many professions, that when done well, leave a person feeling a sense of shared grief. I left work tonight feeling proud of the intense emotional work my clients are doing but I also grieved for them. My heart feels tender and raw tonight; a feeling that eased a bit as I typed about the spring and shedding layers that hinder oneself from truly being present. I know that after a cup of tea, a warm bath, and a nice night of sleep I will again feel fresh and ready to face whatever season we are in up here in Montana. For now, I will meditate on the healing powers of shared experiences and the courage it takes to be vulnerable enough to discover those who can relate to our human experience on this earth... this earth whose heartbeat is within each of us, keeping us connected through eternity.

And I leave you with a song that is nourishing my heart this night:

Fleet Foxes - Grown Ocean from Fleet Foxes on Vimeo.

">Grown Ocean by Fleet Foxes