"The notes I handle no better than many pianists. But the pauses between the notes--ah, that is where the art resides." - Arthur Schnabel
It's that time of year when small things begin to happen. So small, so gradual, you might miss them if you blink. It might not be a bad idea to pause, notice, consider, breathe...before you march down the sidewalk or back to your office chair.
--When was the last time you cloud-watched? Today I saw a T-rex morph into a bat and then into a sailboat.
--I noticed the first purple blossom on the ground cover under the pussy willow tree today.
--The early bulb flowers are in full bloom and the rhododendrons are gaining speed.
--We put the boy to bed tonight and it was still light outside.
--People are beginning to come out of hiding...we saw 3 new runners on the trail the other day. Quite often, we pass no one.
--Poetry is the language of spring. This a good time to find a book or write some of your own. If that doesn't force you to pause, notice, consider, and reflect...I don't know what will...for poetry is all about the spaces between the words.
Today, I worked with some clients on an exercise called "Where I'm From". It's a poetry activity that requires interviewing one's family members, preferably parents or grandparents, and then using that information to write a version of the original by George Ella Lyons.
I've gotten some interesting work from people on this prompt.
I even wrote my own a few years ago (which I can't seem to find right now).
The point is, this poetry...these little observances, these deep inhalations, are what sustain us. They are what keep us from becoming automatons. Spring itself is a pause that forces us out of dormancy and back into the light of the sun. The air is crisper, the wind is brisk, and sounds abound - buzzing and twittering of all types.
Enjoy it while it lasts, because winter, the terminator of the seasons, will be back, probably before we are ready.