I’ve been having writer’s block. I have stuff I’m trying to unravel, but it’s hard to write about. I thought I had this one pattern around romantic relationships, and then it turned out that this pattern is more like the invisible tattoo on my skin, the water I swim in. It’s the lens through which I see the world, and so when I start trying to look at it, there’s no safe place, you know? At least if it was only about food, my relationships would be safe. Or if it was only about romantic relationships, my platonic relationships would be safe. But I get triggered at every corner. It’s very frustrating.
And then I sit down to write something for this site, and the voice in my head (Bitch Boss, is it you?) says that if I’m not writing about this Very Important Pattern I might as well not be writing at all. And that’s how it’s been a month since I last wrote.
Then I remember this poem from Pablo Neruda,
I want to do with you
what spring does with the cherry trees.
– “Every Day You Play”
What an image. It’s so sensual, intimate. Wanting to watch someone flourish, helping them bloom. The idea that you don’t have to bloom on your own.
But there’s more to spring and cherry trees than the blooming.
Right now in the States we’re pretty well in the middle of our winter season; just a few days ago we got a dusting of snow. But yesterday was sunny and 50 degrees, not exactly winter weather. That’s the part I forget about when I think of spring: the dancing, the drama, the tension, the invitation.
Spring doesn’t come like a set change of a play; it’s not winter winter winter winter winter SPRING! BLOOM NOW EVERYONE!
Winter gives the perennials some time to retreat, to hibernate, to rest. But a few weeks before spring officially begins, Winter begins inviting everyone into the new season. There’s a blanket of snow insulating the ground, and then it warms up and melts a little, delivering water to the hibernating roots underneath. Sun shines, encouraging growth. And then it snows again; everything comes back to itself and rests some more, integrating changes.
It’s a patient, gentle seduction.
It’s not time yet for spring, but winter yields a little just to give us a taste. We can remember the delight that comes with spring, start to dream of the new possibilities, and then come back to ourselves and rest a little more.
Desire is the proper atmosphere of the sexual kingdom. It keeps us alive and moving along. It keeps us in touch with memories, warm and sad, and it allows us entry to the world of imagination when all around us practicality is insistent.
– Thomas Moore, “Original Self”
So I continue inviting myself to look at these patterns in my mind, to explore what I think is true, to excavate my desires and just let them be expressed, even if I’m not ready yet to post it here. And I’ll try very hard to remember that things change when they’re ready, no matter how frustrating that is to me.
Spring is possible because of the dance that came before.
Talk soon. Love, Kathryn
PS – The poems that best illustrate the somewhat abusive nature with which we regard change vs the patient, gentle, loving change of nature are by Mary Oliver and Hafiz, respectively. Read here.