The Importance of Spring
At the end of November, I moved to West Asheville with my beloved, Leanne, and our cat, Poe. As you may know, we lost our home in Swannanoa during Helene. When we found a wonderful new home in a woodsy area near Carrier Park, we felt extraordinarily blessed. Of course, by then the leaves had changed colors and fallen long ago, but the landscape around our new home was adorned with lots of trees and bushes that promised an eventful spring. We didn’t want to rush the Wheel of the Year though, and throughout the winter we fell in love with this beautiful little bit of urban woods. Helene had hit us hard, in lots of ways, and the winter felt like an appropriate time to mourn, rest, and recognize how deeply our lives had changed in the fall. The land around our home gave us sacred cues, reminding us that we too needed to get quiet and recover after such a dramatic fall. It really took the winter for us to be ready for the abundance and rebirth of spring.
In the past couple months, every day at our new home has been “Wow, look at that!” When little buds and bits of green started popping up around our house, it was as if we were in the midst of some mythological tale. Nature’s alchemy was in full swing, and our landscape was changing rapidly. I have experienced many springs on the heels of many winters, so it seems like I shouldn’t have been surprised this time around, but I certainly was. It was like the intensity of color around our house increased exponentially. “Leanne, look at that!” In fact, all of our senses were waking up with the abundance of spring. I don’t really even know how to describe it, but the Earth was fresh, vital, alive. The sacred cues all around us were offering new instruction: carpe diem, seize the day.
It’s not just the Plant People who are changing and growing so rapidly this spring, and my awareness of the abundance of life in Western North Carolina isn’t limited to my Relatives with roots. It’s not unusual for me to see a groundhog munching along the road on my way to church, and the birds all over seem to be conspiring to bring their music to Asheville to liven up the place. Leanne noticed a squirrel the other day that was some kind of maestro of tail-flicking, like it was directing Animal traffic from a tree branch. And in some kind of living iconography, a skink sunned itself at the feet of a little metal statue of Archangel Michael I have on my altar outside our house. All Our Relations in Asheville are bringing their “A game” this spring!
Maybe I’m so excited about the new life in Asheville this spring because I needed it. Maybe my post-Helene psyche is simply extra appreciative of the magical resourcefulness of the Earth. Regardless of the reason, I can say unequivocally that I’ve decided to say Yes! to the revitalization all around me. With all of this new life, with all of the giddy up of spring, I’m feeling profoundly resourced. I haven’t forgotten about Helene, or the fact that I’m still experiencing the effects of recent trauma (including from our cultural and political “weather”). Like our whole region, my interior landscape still bears the clear marks of devastation. But what I’m realizing now is that my landscape is revitalizing, budding, shifting toward opportunities for flourishing. And I am trying to practice—to choose—what the ancient Greeks called eudaemonia, or thriving, in the context of my fall and winter experiences. With the help of All My Relations, I’m celebrating that I, too, am resonating with the power, vitality, and fecundity of spring.
Matt Farris, Ministerial Intern