All across the country this month, and perhaps around the world, young people are winding down their high school years or their college years, and gearing up for whatever might be coming in the next phase of their journey. And loved ones are coming to witness the rituals that will usher them from one place to the next. Witnesses are important to our transitions. I am grateful for mine, and for the honor of being witness to their movements.
Transitions happen in the garden, too. Right now the spring garden is winding down and the summer garden is gearing up. The pansies and snapdragons are faded and dried up, early this year thanks to no April rain. Their passing makes space for the vinca, impatiens, zinnias, and (my newly discovered summer annual) gomphrena. The iris is nearing its end and the Mexican petunia and black-eyed Susans are greening and growing toward putting out their bloom. The azaleas are done, the hydrangeas are full of buds--the first one opening in my garden this week. The rain this weekend will speed it all on their way.
I read about winding down and gearing up over my Saturday coffee and scone. Julia Cameron (Walking in This World) says the reason we have such a hard time starting new projects is not because we don't have energy, or a clear vision of the project, or too many ideas; it's because we have things we haven't finished. Finishing almost anything--finally mending the snagged thread in my top and sewing the loose hook on my skirt, cleaning the shower scum that has been nagging me, getting the pictures in my i-photo file organized (not yet), mowing the lawn, finishing the April One Little Word before I try to start May--creates both order in our environment and inner order. Finishing something says, "Now start something." I think I have always thought of that as stalling: suddenly, when I am trying to begin a project, nothing seems more important than cleaning the toilet. But how can I write a book if I can't finish my mending? Maybe the toilet really is sapping my creative energy. There is an sequence to everything, perhaps you have to wind down before you can gear up. So if you are having trouble starting something, try starting with finishing something. "A body in motion remains in motion."
The super moon is not visible in Raleigh last night--cloud cover. But Friday night, when I am up late enjoying First Friday with friends and then can't get to sleep, I sit on my window seat in my bedroom under the eaves and look out the open window at the moon over my neighborhood. It is completely silent,
the birds are sleeping, no cars are swishing down the street, no sirens split the humid air, and the nearly full moon hangs above the trees with its entourage of stars. This morning there is a photo from dear Wynne of the super moon that she and Emma observed from my childhood bedroom window last night. My mom said it was too blinding to look at. (Sometimes we have to look at things, even though it hurts our eyes, or our heart.)Yesterday Wynne also sent a picture of my mother's garden after the rain; and I took one of mine. Spring is gearing up in the Pacific Northwest, and it's winding down in the southeast. Students are graduating--leaving behind a significant part of their journey, and moving into the next one. I am winding down and gearing up, too. More on that next week. Stay tuned.
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