The Art of Spring

I love the art of spring, the bluebells on the kitchen table and the buds on my lilac tree and rose bush. But even more than flowers, I love movies. The one that sticks in my mind this week is Melancholia, directed by Lars von Trier. At first I thought it was a treatise on feeling melancholy, but I guess it concerns a fear of the end of the world.

The end of my life enters my consciousness most days. Of course, I’m 67 and more than halfway to dead, but I do have today. I can go into the kitchen, throw out my tarot cards and dream about my life and career, or sit on my couch and read until it is time to work. My bath can be deeper and I can eat more applesauce. I can clean my bedroom or float my thoughts.

Floating thoughts are intuition, and intuition is like spring. A promise. A flower. A start of creative new things.

Just as spring can be beautiful with sun, or cold with rain, each day we make a choice to be happy or sad. Each hour we can cry or rejoice. So I suggest, let beauty into your hearts and act like a May flower child. There’s no downside to that.