Monday, March 23, 2009
happy spring! as it is visiting us with one of its many and varied manifestations . . .
today we have experienced so many different versions of "snow" that I've lost track. I have seen everything from powerfully heavy snowflakes as large as my thumb to light-as-air flakes that looked and acted like fireflies, spending more time and energy in a sideways motion than that in a downward trajectory.
I walked in the snow carrying an umbrella to keep from becoming drenched, and I walked without, bareheaded, letting the tiny and infrequent flakes flutter around me.
as I type, I am looking out my window, watching big, fat flakes float thickly downward in a constant pattern that, were the ground still frozen, would result in inches piling upon inches of prior flakes. however, the earthen temperature being what it is, the ground is fighting back, struggling to keep its claim of springtime, and the grass welcomes its little white coating while still poking its evergreen self skyward, above any kind of blanketing that might want to be happening.
and even as I type, the flakes have shifted once more, now a little more sparse, a little smaller in stature, a little less resolute.
I feel something in the air.
something different, something hopeful, something that acknowledges life's blips and bumps, yet tells us to keep moving forward, to not get stuck behind what is really but a extra bit of asphalt clumped in a little ridge.
this morning I did my best headstand ever. it lasted so long and was so steady that I know, I know deep down inside, that I am making progress. today I still used the wall to steady myself when needed, but there will come a time when I don't need that security.
there will come a day when I will stand on my own little head, and know that I got there with a bit of direction and encouragement from miguel, but mostly by myself, through determination and practice and progress and commitment.
it's snowing today, and it's beautiful. it's the kind of snow that makes you want to stand out under a wide open sky, tilt your head up, close your eyes, and stick out your tongue to catch as many flakes as possible and count them as first they jar your tongue with cold, then quickly melt and tease your tongue with their moisture.
someday maybe I will go outside on a spring day like this, plant my head on the ground, pull up into my headstand, and then stick my tongue out and catch snowflakes on the bottom of my tongue, just to see if I can.