Spring peaks. Are you ready to plunge yourself into a new season? Not me. But I welcome the increasing light. The essay I was writing for this new moon in Pisces isn’t done. Might never get finished. And Aries is already knocking on the door of a new morning. Fast paced and intense, zero patience. Yesterday, instead of finishing this essay, I went to a concert. Just to push myself out the door. It wasn’t great. It was jumbled. And messy. But it started with a good reminder: Make mistakes. It’s ok to begin something foolishly unknowing. There’s simply no other way to enliven your experience.
The visuals at the show reminded me of this little spring poem I wrote exactly two years ago. I shared it on Instagram back then. I read it now as a note to self, to leap into things with a sense of wonder, to go outside as much as possible in the coming months. Not to miss the magic. I do hope, sometime soon, something blooms about you, and about me too.
Cross Pollination
I cannot even begin
to tell you what that budding
green and yellow stirs
in this very center
right here, you know
when you plant your fingers
heart height
right at the center
and press
right behind that
breast bone
that budding green
and yellow swirls
and I wish I could spell out
how it ( )
but there's no beginning to tell
that which has never begun
nor ever ends
and, well
I simply hope
you at the very center
sometime soon
feel it swell and sway
and that it carries you
the way pollen
on the pregnant wind
gets carried away
to wander beyond that budding
towards some bewildering bloom
Metaphysical Mulch 