My mind feels like it is also opening out and stretching.
This past weekend I traveled down through New York and saw blossoms appearing on trees. I went to my temple for a ceremony, and was shocked to hear the sounds once more - the entire forest around us was humming with life. Insects had returned, the woods were now a new place with new dimensions.
I came home to Maine and rearranged our living room and hauled the wooden bench from under the window and took it back outside. I sat down on it with a mug of steaming green tea and sat there for ten minutes and listened. The breeze on my face, the sun now high and strong in the sky. The activity of robins and blazing red cardinals, busy with the scurrying sounds throughout the meadow.
I sat and breathed in the scent of damp earth, and was so happy to feel the softness in the air. A welcoming softness, no more rigid lines pushing me back inside.
And just like last year when I witnessed my first Maine spring, I am in awe. Of how life appears. Where did it all come from? It makes me think of reincarnation, and frankly, how obvious it is that our mind continues on into its next phase. Nothing in this world just ends. It is transformed. It continues. It takes new forms.
And so it is with our mind. We move into the next season, we transform, our body turns into ash. But our mind, that formless force of thinking and imputation, that continuum of clarity - it continues on.
So why not start some gardening in the field of our mind? Why not start pulling out those weeds of negative thinking, and start planting some vivid bulbs, some beautiful thoughts of compassion and love, that will rise in the next life and bring so much joy to others?
(Photo credit: Grosses Schneeglöckchen, Leucojum vernum, by Johann Georg Sturm, courtesy Wiki Commons)