Spring is springing

Spring is springing!

This picture was taken by my mother, on one of her walks along the Connecticut River. I'm no beaver expert, but this beaver appears to me to be pregnant. I learned that beavers mate in the winter, gestate for 120 days, and give birth in the late spring. How fascinating it is that even in the middle of winter, they can feel the upcoming shift in the seasons.

I start to notice it myself in early February, as the days get a little bit longer. While I am not preparing my lodge for kits (baby beavers), I am in a flurry of activity. This time of year is when travel and teaching pick up for me. The shifts are all around us, if we pay attention to them. I receive more contact from others around this time too, as do many of my colleagues in helping professions. Even thought humans don't hibernate, we are one with nature, and our bodies shift with the seasons, even if we don't realize it.

I have learned to honor these shifts in myself. Our modern world coaxes us into constant activity, and away from seasonality. But we are a part of the natural world, and the natural world always shifts. I encourage you to honor the shifts in yourself, and move with them. If your body asks for more activity, honor it. If it asks for more rest, honor it. By honoring our own needs, we can learn to be more in tune with nature's shifts and changes.

To start, we have only to pay attention.

Mud season and liminal spaces

It's officially mud season in Vermont. Mud season is a "season between seasons," occurring between winter and spring, when the snows melt and saturate the thawing soil, creating muddy trails and roads. I live on a dirt road here, and there is already one deep divot where someone unused to driving in the mud got up a little bit too much speed and sunk in.

It's an interesting feeling for me, that as nature seems to wake up and grow, I feel myself slowing down and taking a breath. Winter is a busy season for me, and as that activity dies down, other activities ramp up and call my attention. This year especially, I find myself deeply cherishing this in between space. It feels like waking up, stretching, and then taking another moment in bed because there's nothing to do.

Our world is a hectic place, and there are more things than ever calling our attention. I am taking a cue from the seasons this month, and finding the spaciousness within this micro-season, which encourages me to both wake up and slow down at the same time. It reminds me that power doesn't have to be a burst of energy. Power can be gentle, settling, calming. In the same way that a lion spirit is not more powerful than a mouse spirit, gentle power is no less powerful.

I encourage you to pay attention to the time between time. See if you can find the gentle power in these liminal spaces. We have them every day, in the time before sunrise, in the twilight. See if you can sense the gentle power.

Lessons from the trees

In my circle in East Hartford this past month, we did a ceremony for trees. I have learned so much from trees. The tall pine trees outside my childhood home were some of my first friends.

I could go on and on sharing all the teachings I have received from the tree people--I won't do that! But there is one I would like to share in particular.

I learned from the trees on the land where I teach that trees don't have an opportunity to choose their neighbors. Their community is wherever they are planted. They don't get to move if they don't get along with their community. Instead, they make community wherever they are.

This teaching came from the trees last year, but it was pointed out to me again at this past month's journey circle. It gave me pause, as I have been experiencing distress around the amount of polarization in our communities and the amount of emotion in the air. The trees reminded me that we have a certain amount of control, yes, but that control is to find our community where we are planted. It made me so grateful for our circle, and for the other circles of which I am a member--shamanic and otherwise.

Shamanism is not a solitary pursuit--we exist in community. I am thankful for my community of humans, my community in nature, and the spirits who, in their great generosity, continue to support us as we stumble down our own paths.

The Pine Barrens