I went for a walk in the bright spring sunshine this morning. 5 minutes from my house I am in forest, surrounded by tall trees and insulated from the noise of the village. It’s mostly quiet- occasionally the bright sweet sound of birdsong echoes, and chipmunks and squirrels rustle through last years’ leaves. There’s the buzz of the first insects awakening, and the sound of my feet on the soft ground.
But this morning, this fine, finally-there-is-some-warmth-in-the-air day, there was something different.
The forest felt different. I stood beside a small tree, delighted to see the first leaves beginning to unfurl, and I swear they opened further as I watched. I could feel spring. Seriously. There was energy to the air, an opening, a mild electric buzz. I held my breath, listening. And all around me, this gentle popping and cracking as the tiny green leaves pushed their way into the spring air. The forest is alive, and so was I.
I’m unfurling, too. I’m opening to today, to my future, to this new path I am setting out on. I’m trusting in all the choices and decisions I’ve made, in everything that has led me here, to this moment. Trusting that I am enough.
One thing I do trust is that we have to keep growing, keep unfurling, keep opening and expanding. It’s this thing we do, called living. It won’t be perfect- there will be loves and losses. There will be bills and dishes, dreams-come-true and disappointments. Words we long to hear and words we wish we could take back. Leaps of faith and lessons learned. Pajama days and play dates.
But that’s the joy of life, isn’t it? Like those tiny spring leaves, we can burst into life, becoming the best we can be in this moment, and then we can fall and rest, and become again. I love that.