You’re being given it all, the wind whispered. Everything you dream of is here; it is at your doorstep. Open the window to let in the light, and your new life, away from your prison.
But I’m not ready, she gasped. I’m still not good enough.
And yet it is given. You asked, and here it is. We love you.
Give it all up, all your worries and troubles and imperfections. Give it all to the God and Goddess and let them carry you. Spring is here, and it’s here to stay in your heart, blossoming into summer. Let it all go. Your new life awaits.
I sat among the trees, by the lake, under an almost full moon. I walked home in the gathering night, towards the light of a tiny silver star, and heard it whisper to me.
Make a wish it said. Now on the eve of the equinox, make a wish for your new life, for everything you want to leave behind, and for the dream of something new. Be quiet and see this in your heart, and you will be guided. Brighter days are ahead, the snow is melting, there is no need to hold on to winter.
I gathered my wishes like flowers inside of me, and kept them there, to be released like petals on the wind.
It is the day of the equinox, and the sun has just cleared the treetops as I sit by my window, drinking hot black tea, dandelion coffee. We got up early, before dawn, my husband and I. We had found a spot close to us where we could see the sun come over the mountains, and went there, walking along a snow clad road, seeing the horizon painted pink, a crow flying over tall pine and fir trees.
It would be a clear, beautiful day, the sky a faint blue behind us. The clouds glinted like gold above the mountain tops, and I gazed at them longingly, hoping to see the sun rise into view. It felt like such a long wait, and I grew colder even through my layers of wool, even though there was no wind this time around. I was so grateful when it finally did rise, round and yellow, rays stretching across the mountains, the ice, into the forest behind us. I closed my eyes and took in its warmth.
I feel sleepy now, but I don’t want to return to bed because the wind is in the trees and the light is coming, washing down the hill. I love to sit here while it filters into the kitchen, the room smelling a bit like coffee as I make my second cup of dandelion brew.
What do you dream of, at this change of season?