It Might As Well Be Spring

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There is a lightening of spirit.  An ease in my breath and a quickening in my blood.  All at once, I am not so heavy.  My muscles, at long last, are willing to wrap around my bones, my body able and ready to support my whims and wishes as I move, work, play.

I have been so tired these last few weeks.  Fatigued, exhausted, despairing in body.  Difficulty waking up, always ready for a few brief moments of rest, all too eager to turn those moments into endless sleep.  I thought it was just me.  So I turned, like I do, to my two most hallowed sources: my medical family and the vast public opinion of Facebook.  I received an outpouring of advice, and have now started a vitamin d/gummy vitamin regimen.  I am cracking my windows for ventilation and having a square of organic dark chocolate each morning for motivation, singing to myself and opening the shades to literally let the light in.

I was so desperate to find a cure, a fix for how I was feeling.  I kept thinking I must be crazy, the lone victim of seasonal depression in a city full of people who could just keep going with infinite and everlasting willpower and strength.  How could they wake up each morning, rising at the appointed hour and lasting an entire day without the threat of collapse?  What on earth was so wrong with me?

And then I talked to these people, and I realized many of them felt just the same as I did. For months now, we have all been pretending to one another.  But the burden of fallen snow still weighs on our shoulders long after it has melted off the sidewalks. We are collectively tired, wiped by a world of our own creation which makes no allowances for the ebb and flow of nature's currents.  Instead of accommodating our biology, we fight and resist, any means necessary to maintain our schedules when the weather is doing its very best to bury us indoors and in the dark.

One day, it's freezing.  And the next day it's freezing.  But the sun is out.  Or- and the sun is out.  And suddenly your heart has a little more room in it for optimism.  You recall hope, the way you do when you realize you have inadvertently lost touch with a dear friend.  And once you realize the lack, you are no longer willing to go without.

When I first noticed, I wondered if the seasons could really be so powerful.  Can a proverbial ray of sunshine really brighten my day that much, so to speak?  And then I wondered if maybe I could be so powerful.  Could my willingness to crack a smile drive away the winter winds?

I think the answer lies ultimately in avoiding the cause and effect scenario altogether.  There is no chicken here, no egg.  We are not the result of nature's effects around us.  We are affected simultaneously, we change altogether as one.  Not because of, but exactly in step with.  We were dry, brittle, and cracked, holding on greedily to every drop of moisture and warmth just to survive.  And collectively, along with the leaves on the trees and the dirt in the ground, we now breathe a warm sigh that sends heat, energy, and light crackling in all directions.  Our spirits lift, and we know spring is coming.  We are not separate.  We are not the changers or the changed.  We grow, all of us, all of it, together.

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