Resurrection
Resurrect, from the latin root “resurgere” means, to rise again. While I don’t subscribe to any organized religion, I found it quite apropos that yesterday was Easter, marking the part of the Jesus story where he is risen from the dead. I rose on this Sunday, one that also serves as a mark for the coming Spring, layered in melancholy. It’s thin, muffling presence created a nearly impenetrable membrane to the vitality of life that was rising up all around me in birdsong, wind chimes, massive verdant pines backlit by brilliant spring sunlight, and the persistent push of bulbs as their heads peeked through the piles of winter needles and snow still covering most of the yard.
“You can pick all the flowers, but you can’t stop the Spring”. ~ Pablo Neruda, Poet
Melancholy is an interesting emotion, dampening and dulling the immediacy of life but beneath it, like a powerful undertow, the clear potency of Source energy pulsating within. It feels quite a bit like the very beginnings of Spring to me, when all that dormant energy is still subdued yet powerfully pulsing beneath the ground, gaining momentum, readying itself to rise once more, to be resurrected.
And so is the nature of life. Each thing endures a birth, lives for a time, and then submits to some form of death, only to reenter the cycle at some other time, in some other form. Whatever your religious beliefs of rebirth, the hard science shows us that we are all made of energy. And the first Law of Thermodynamics shows us that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it can only be transformed. So, whatever dies; be it our bodies, the bodies of our pets, the bodies of the earth in tree and rock and river, our economy, beliefs, ideals, it rises again in new form, is resurrected.
Just as the persistent bulbs in my rock strewn tahoe soil, die each year only to rise up and offer their beautifully diverse expressions of life every Spring, so too do we have this opportunity to rise up after the darkness of winter, the continued darkness of COVID. To recognize and honor what has died already, literally and metaphorically and to re-enter in time, and offer our beautifully diverse selves to the world in a new way. A way that is more resilient, wiser, clearer for having nestled into the dormancy of quarantine, having germinated in the whispers of our hearts recognition of what truly matters, and having listened closely to the call of the Great Mother, Pachamama, to awaken to a more aligned way of living in and as part of this world.
“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” ~ Lao Tzu, The Tao
But don’t rush. We aren’t quite there yet and have some time to go. Just as each bulb, each bush, each tree has it’s time to rise up in Spring, ours will come too. For now, don’t lose connection with the quiet inside for the birdsong outside. Don’t lose touch with the whisper of your heart for the whispering of the wind in the trees. Don’t lose sight of the coming new light, for the radiance of the spring sun on your brow. Let our continued time together in germination and inner growth be rich and full and complete, so that when it is time to rise again and offer ourselves to the world, our return is one that reflects time well spent. Let our resurrection illustrate the deep wisdom that comes from having endured and grieved “death” with honor, with patience, and with reverence for the new life it brings.
“Sometimes what’s dead must be burned away to make room for new life. Sometimes you just have to step back and let the brittle bits ignite – but once those flames begin to dance their caustic dance, don’t you dare look the other way. Don’t close your eyes. Watch closely and let that image seer itself forever on your mind. Remember what it looked like in the midst of the soot, the smoke, and the haze. Remember, so you don’t repeat the same conditions that required such a blaze.” ~ Cristen Rogers