The Exquisite Ache of Spring. ~ Verity Louisa

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Spring Ache

Do you feel it, that itch in the Spring?

That small but exquisite ache?

It niggles. It writhes. It twists and turns.

It is the tiniest sensation that seems to awaken just as the Winter is dying. It begins as the sun arcs higher a little more each day and we are exposed to more light.

The birth pains of season—change builds from an itch to a twinge. From a twinge to a pang. It builds and builds into a crescendo, squeezing Winter to its end.

The birth of Spring is upon us. The Spring that was conceived deep, deep below the earth in the very depths of Winter is now crowning.

Now is the time of shedding.

The skin that we grew and wore last year was comfortable. However, toward the end we felt it pressing in, fitting us too tightly.

But Winter is cold—it is dark and long. The skin is familiar and it feels safe, even as we feel it straining and bursting at the seams. Even as we feel it constricting our growth and expansion. We feel protected within its well-known confines and secure within its intimacy.

So, we have wrapped it close around us during the Winter months. We have lived blanketed within it.

Now, the sunlight trickles softly down, kissing and caressing us. The first vestige of warmth penetrates us. We find our old skin is beginning to dry out and crack. It blisters and flakes. It rips and it rents.

We realise that we have far outgrown it.

If we have spent those dark months within our own darkness, we may find that our old skin will slowly peel away. Almost effortlessly.

If we have found time to be slow, to be still and to contemplate, if we have been able to spend some of our time in Winterruhe, (“Winter-Calm”), then maybe our old skins will crack off and slide more easily from us, like a seedling willingly breaking free of its hard shell.

And for those who have no time for dormancy in the darkness? The threadbare skin is rough and ragged, it is frayed and worn. It catches, it snags and it irritates.

It is an encumbrance.

I have always thought of this time of year as an opportunity to shed the old. Recognising what we will bring with us and what we must leave behind or discard.

Our thorough “Spring clean.”

During this time we can vigorously slough off the old in order to start anew. We can rip off what no longer serves us in our authenticity. We can reject and remove what we have outgrown, whilst still recognising that it was once a part of us and therefore an integral part of our growth.

It can be exciting and invigorating. Like a furled up bud, we can burst out and discover what beauty is beneath.

It can also be something we put off. It can be messy and painful. Transitions often are.

So, we often procrastinate, stalling the inevitable, delaying the imminent and the necessary. After all, we know that underneath the armour of our old skin, we will find ourselves soft, raw and vulnerable.

Either way, the old skin must be discarded. The itch must simply be scratched. We either prolong the agony over months or years or a lifetime— or we allow it to happen.

Now.

Do you feel it, that itch in the Spring?

That small but exquisite ache?

It is a call for us to cast off the old and discover what emerges. It is the lure of transformation. It is the siren-song of change.

 

Photo: StockSnap

Verity LouisaVerity Louisa is a weaver of words, a spinner of stories and a forger of fantasy. She is a fabricator of fables, a maker of magic and a lover to legend. She is a creator of mess and of laughter, a crafter of tears and tantrums. She is a mystic mama. She is a woman-child who loves fiercely and drinks deeply from the cup that bears the sweet nectar of the profound. Verity lives in a beautiful British Celtic County and embraces life with open arms because its ancient rhythms pulsate and resonate through her. You can connect with her on Facebook or on her website.

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