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Spring

It is February 2 and today the groundhog saw his shadow. I guess that means six more weeks of winter but I am begging for spring to arrive early. The winter has never been good to me. Lost loves, cold weather, holiday weight, and the early nights make the winter a struggle to endure. I long for spring, a spring in my mind, body, and spirit. I always feel better with the warm sun kissing my skin while the breeze whispers in my ear, my own menage trois with the season, fulfilling my fantasy of being the center of love.

Love is in the air then as the order of nature dictates mating season a time to create life but right now in the dead of winter desperation pervades. Creation holds on to the little bit of sustenance it has left until the seed germinates and harvesting can begin; where there is plenty and sufficiency, joy and laughter, smiles and dancing. I want to be happy and laugh, to smile and dance.

Often we fly south for the winter as the birds do. We fly south of comfort and leisure, pleasure and amusement. Maybe that trek southward causes an arrival to life examination. Socrates said the unexamined life was not worth living so the winter is the time to decide if life is worth living, if you are worth living. It is an arrival of the gathering of contemplative thoughts on the requirements for our own life sustainability.

I believe I require (in no particular order) love, affection, validation, companionship, my pen, my opinion, the Bible, a punching bag, a sweet merlot, good music, my little black dress, controversy, the air I breathe, and a shared meal. I wonder who needs so much or so little for their life to continue living. A living life, as if to suggest the possibility of a dead life, which is the greatest oxymoron in existence. I think that is what happens in the dead of winter. Life dies while the lungs inhale and the heart beats. The soul is in hibernation strengthening itself for the next season; for the spring.

And so my soul hibernates and strengthens awaiting my new season. Yet it is restless like the caterpillar fighting against its cocoon. My soul is agitated desiring to break free. Desiring the spring.

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