Photo / Annie Spratt
The totality of spring is upon me. Morning calls in flashes of purple iris light, rain hymns, and dew drops. I walk outside with a cup of tea and lose my sense of time as steam spirals toward a cyan sky. I listen to the bird’s trill and to the exhalation of grass. I press bare feet on wet, silken blades.
Night was good to the earth.
May invites renewal – the kind of stretching, yawning return granted after months resting in a cradle of darkness. It is easy to neglect this precious transition. It is easy to disconnect from the mystic instructions encoded in the sway of seasons. We have a million devices to keep track of and numerous accounts to check in on. We have the imposed structure of hours rushing by and the concrete vision of cities. Modern life has disavowed slowness. Modern life has crafted a stealthy concoction of covert judgments and used them to dissuade humans from reconnecting with the rhythm of nature. Over-productivity is a consciousness we subscribe to. Accomplishment is a myth and it needs to be rewritten.
We knew a secret once and the secret said:
Fresh air deepens breath, revelation rides the petal edge of flowers, mother earth is our most vital wisdom keeper, accomplishment is healing and healing is here. Healing is now.
So how do we calm the hyperdrive of our to-do mentality and release our screen-obsessed tendencies?
How do we discover a sense of connection unrelated to statuses and checklists?
How do we find slowness when basic survival may or may not demand an inherent level of busyness?
We remember breath.
Then when that little voice inside our mind scoffs and says,
“Oh that’s original, just remember your breath, have fun with that…”, we breathe anyway.
We disobey the cynic. We put faith in a deeper directive. We believe that truly profound potential gestates in seemingly simple solutions. That is the true code of nature. Her depth is revealed in her attention, her grandeur transmitted through her grace. Nature takes all the time she needs because she knows that time is space and space is spacious.
On the path towards wider listening, here is our call to action:
Choose a moment in your day when you give all of your attention to your breath, be it for 15 minutes or 15 seconds.
Choose a moment in your day when you turn off your devices and remain present with the tactile world around you.
Choose a moment in your day when you go outside without socks or shoes and wiggle your toes in the umber soil.
Notice the scent of seasons.
There is a shift and it is summoning our full participation.
It is not asking for a bucking up or a pushing out. It is a blueprint for surrender. It is an ancient map and we are long time voyagers. This dissolution is a celebration.
The flowers are waking up.
I am a Portland, Oregon based writer, filmmaker and choreographer. I believe stories dissolve the grip of isolation and return us to each other.