Saturday, March 2, 2013

Here she comes

Last week I arranged narcissus and pale pink gardenias in the Deetjens Inn office. Yesterday, the tights and boots came off and I wore a dress and flat shoes to work. This morning I woke knowing that it was time to place the fuschia silk cloth on my altar.

Yes, after the violent storms of this past Winter, Spring is gently, gently sailing into Big Sur. You can hear it in birds trilling in the trees, see it in daffodils dancing in gentle rains, smell it in cherry blossoms dropping their petals like confetti.

I hear the lupin are out in the back country, filling fields with the scent of sun-warmed grape jelly.

Spring, inexhaustible Spring. We die and we come back to life every year, such a lovely metaphor for our spiritual evolution.

Doing some much-needed Spring cleaning, I came across a postcard with these words of our "local son" author Henry Miller:

"Why then do we not give ourselves -- recklessly, abundantly, completely? If we realized we were part of an endless process, that we had neither to lose nor to gain, but only to live it out, would we behave as we do?"

Ah, Henry Miller, Hindu sage. It's all Lila, God's play. We exist to manifest God in a flow of spontaneous, creative vitality. An end in itself, this cosmic dance is why we are here, and we must join the party or miss out on what our souls need most.

Spring encourages us to give of ourselves, again. To jump back into the world with a shout, "I am here, so let's rejoice!" In a few days, I'm off to Bali, Indonesia, to sing and dance in temples, to ride elephants and pray under volcanoes. It's all part of the adventure of rebirth this Spring.