It’s a strange thing to say but I’m not sad to see March go. Sometimes I get these checkpoints in my head and the flipping of our calendar has been my focus the past week, as if it was some finish line to a horrid race I was running. I don’t know what it is. Nothing internally would shift just because the month changed and I lifted a page, but then again, maybe it would. Maybe it is all about silly mind-milestones that help redeem inspiration or bring back the glow.
Is it fair to play myself like that? Some days it’s solely about what makes you feel good. I'm chalking up today as one of those days. The beginning of a new month - a new beginning; a blank slate.
Intuition led my way this morning. I lolly-gagged in bed while the dog made loud, open-mouthed sighs at the sunrise. I still found my way to the basement so I could get back to my practice, so I could get back to me. No bashing about days missed in last month's weary, but rather just today and the days that are to come. It all made sense when I started my new month journal: literally shifting from portfolio to landscape; a decrease in the margins, and an increase in the space for what I see on the screen. A little perspective. Hit Save.
That’s what’s been missing this past month, the “me” I have come to be (and like). It’s no big revelation; it’s just that I couldn’t pull myself out of my own March Madness. Everything felt forced or annoyed or not like the life I wanted to be living. So maybe a new month is just what the doctor ordered to get back on track. Spring is here with the rain and maybe even one last snow; but it assuredly is bringing the warm weather and growth that only the next two season's can promise. It feels like 5 o'clock on a Friday. I feel comfort in the long nights and, oddly enough, the slight chirps of birds starting at 5 am and only multiplying from there. The dog knows there is plenty of time for a walk, as long as it doesn’t coincide with the incessant pounding of the woodpecker (who ruins everything in the morning...and sometimes half-way through a walk in the afternoon). The back door open to the yard so the house seems a little longer and the flow seems a little freer. The garden box calling to me with the challenge of putting it together this year with more things that grow to eat and less things that grow to smell. Ice cream at night. Flip flops and tank tops, sundresses. Skin soaking up the day. Ice cubes clanking against sweaty glasses as it all melts in the afternoon glow of happy hour with good friends.
The expectations are all there. Who knows why I put this on myself - maybe it’s my form of excitement. Am I expecting so much from the month or so much from myself or is it that I finally feel the shift? (perhaps it's that Mercury is no longer in retrograde...whatever that truly means) Can I let my heart crack open, can I let myself bloom like the seeds we are all trying to plant these days? I am ready for the growth. I was ready back in January, it’s just that winter was still around and I had to let things germinate. Anticipation can be fantastically, extraordinarily torturous.
So April it is. It seems so suiting and light: the promise of things to come and the START line of folly.