I sat for a few minutes when writing this, struggling a little to decide what topic I should choose tonight. I had a few that I thought might be a hit and bring in a lot of people to read. I had a few ideas that I thought would be a total dud but which would fuel my inner activist fire. However, none of them spoke to my heart in the way that the topic I will focus on did, and I think that’s where my best writing comes. Really, that’s where anyone’s best art comes from—those moments where our soul is truly unleashed through our work and we are able to entrance our audience in our vision.
It’s springtime. It’s incredible, isn’t it? You step outside in the morning and you can feel hints of dew on the grass. You wake up to the sun, streaming in through the panes of glass on your window and greeting the backs of your eyelids like the kiss of a lover, returning after a long absence. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.” It whispers. “I promise I’ll never leave again” it lies.
Because spring is also a tease. Spring comes with days so dark and wet and rainy that you just want to curl up under a blanket and curl up to your real loved ones- the flesh and blood ones that gave you warmth and light and life throughout the winter. Who needs that darn sun anyway?
I’m an addict for sunshine, and I joyfully rant about its presence to anyone who will listen.
Springtime also brings new life- new buds dot the ground in the gardens of The Morton Arboretum like the polka dots on my spring Easter dress. It’s the season of blooms, bursting out in reckless color against the bluest, most azure backdrop you ever dreamed. They’re firecrackers of orange, blushes of pink, the whitest, purest whites. They are foreshadows of fireworks shows, blushing babies conceived in winter’s dark, and summer brides dressed in white.
Trees begin to bud and promise us leaves. The summer will be cloaked in green once again this year, creating an emerald backdrop for our brightest summer dreaming. Despite the concerns of the winter and early spring weather events caused- strange warm days followed by sudden freezes. The world will begin again.
I am hopeful that we can begin again, and in earnest. I hope that the environmental movement can seize the joy of spring and come out of the winter woodwork. I hate to mention the current political climate, but it must be mentioned, or I would be guilty of the sin of omission. The controversy sparked by the Trump administration has sparked a powder keg, and the fire is beginning to die down. We now have the March for Science and the Climate March on the horizon , and it is my earnest hope that the flames unleashed at those events can be stoked into a steady fire which can sustain real action, real activism. Not the sexy, sign-waving, marching in the streets kind- the late nights, hard work, and grassroots organization necessary to breath live and momentum into a movement.
I love spring. It reminds me to renew myself, to refocus on my goals, my purpose, and it gets me outside- where I am most content and full of joy.
If you do nothing else today, drop whatever device you are reading this on and go outside. Breath in the air. Even if it’s not sunny. Fill your lungs and smell the rebirth, the renewal, and allow yourself to be renewed to. Whatever your purpose, whatever your cause, take stock and revisit how you can take action in a sustainable, responsible, and meaningful way.
Spring has sprung, and now is the time for all of us to do the same