earthly paradise. The hesitant brilliance slowly rises, coquettishly
casting long fluttering shadows that gently coax her sleeping children awake. The birds begin their daily greeting, singing praise for the warmth which will thaw their little bones and for the brilliance which will guide them to their source of food. Soon everyone has risen; the morning melody is in full crescendo.
Spring is coming - everyone is ready, but the Earth is in a stubborn mood. Apparently her frosty Northeast temperment has not been awarded enough respect and she gives us the cold shoulder, waiting for homage. We know she is playing a game - she has already hinted at her generous stores of inner sweetness hidden beneath her crusty frozen exterior -- evidenced by the steam from the local sugar shacks which are boiling the precious life-blood of our region’s maple trees. For our patience we are rewarded with the golden ambrosia that sweetens our tea and disposition.
She teaches us discipline. Our best laid plans get pushed aside if Mother Earth refuses to cooperate, or rather, if we refuse to cooperate with her! There are subtle reminders of Who is Boss if we venture out too soon, or tamper with her precious offspring. We cannot plant our gardens if the ground is still frozen, we cannot repair the leak in the roof if it is raining all the time, we cannot hike up the mountain if the mud is too soft - it will destroy the alpine vegetation that is fragile already. This is a harsh climate, yet it bestows great gifts of beauty and purity to those who accept her stern methods of teaching. I adore this part of the world with all it’s quirks, but I am deeply yearning for SPRING!! I can feel cellular stirrings as we pass from the season of white to green.
I am sad to hear of the plight of the kangaroos of Oz. In our country, I have heard of the western Prairie Dog being sought out for extermination. Apparently, someone thinks there are too many. I know that somewhere in the Bible it says that we are the stewards of the earth, but a steward is a caretaker, not the master. As inhabitants of Earth, I believe we find ways to survive, and create patterns that sometimes outlive their usefulness. Don’t you think there is room for everything? I do, but we may have to give up our seat on the bus or move over a notch to fit it all in.
This is the Chinese Year of the Rat - a new beginning of a twelve year cycle. The Genesis of many new worlds of thought and deed. I can feel the shifting - it is as if the lid of an exquisitely ornate jar becomes cracked open ever-so-slightly, releasing the trapped air; but now the lid slowly turns in place and gets gently lifted, the contents of the jar sparkling in the incoming light. Can it be a Jar of Jems? J
Blessings,
JEM