it's inevitable

on endings and beginnings

There is a natural tension that arises in the shoulder seasons, as we stand on the threshold between one way of being and another. As I write, I sit by the window looking out upon the garden still brown and covered over with last fall’s detritus while at its edge is a magnificent Magnolia bush flush with buds awaiting broadened sunshine and the necessary warmth that will entice it to blossom. Recently returned Robins and hearty all-season Cardinals are flitting around, singing at the top of their powerful lungs filling the air with hopeful song announcing the awakening of the Great Mother on this chilly Spring Equinox morning.

Meanwhile, I wrap my hands around a warm mug of tea with a blanket on my lap, admiring a tulip from the bouquet I purchased yesterday at the market, next to a candle I have had perpetually lit all winter to bring life and light to my indoor spaces.

The signs are all here that I am living in two worlds and I attempt to savor the interplay and presence of both, as uncomfortable as this liminality tends to be. I’m noticing the desire to layer on a bigger sweater while simultaneously yearning to store them away until the pendulum swings back six months from now on the Autumn Equinox.

But the time for such things isn’t quite right, yet.

There is sweetness here in the in-between, if I’m willing to be attentive to it, holding both the inner movement to hang on and to let go. The buds and the birdsong and the sunshine are issuing an invitation into remembering. Spring’s arrival in all her fullness is inevitable, but not until she and Winter have their last dance — the push and pull before we are let loose into the new cycle, the new adventure of vitality refreshed.

I am reminded today to be patient, not only in navigating this ebb and flow around me, but the one within, as well. I am reminded that the promise of now is where the magic of becoming resides within the tension of all that is unknown and unknowable. Restlessness naturally lives here, alongside the deep peace of presence as I remember there is nothing I need do in this moment but Be.

Warmth will come. Blossoms will come. Green will come. All in its own time.

Perhaps I will put on one of those extra layers and find a spot in the yard to soak in the sunshine, to breathe and allow my own life force to both nourish and be fed by this balance point of light and dark.

What will come for us when we create the space to witness this dance between endings and beginnings? Where is this tension that Nature is mirroring for us present within your own life?

I’d love to hear how the threshold of Spring Equinox is speaking the inevitability of the season’s shift to you. ❤️

Just on the other
side of the door
someone
is about to knock
and our life
is just
about to change…

~David Whyte (excerpt from the poem, Waiting to Go On)

An invitation…

If you’re looking for an online community space to explore your own meditation practice, I share about Spirited Meditation Circle for 2025 in this post from last month: what the world needs now.

To receive the Zoom link, simply hit reply if you’re seeing this in your email, or email me directly: christy (at) tendinglife (dot) com and I’ll send it along. I’d love to have you join us! ❤️

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