Circles

A daughter of Pennsylvania, I delight in the circular patterns that guide the weather.  I observe them, find solidarity with them.  Rhythms, ancient paths of movement, circles that offer the hope of change with the comfort of a promised returning.

I look at the trees, starkly beautiful, naked of leaf and fruit - I gaze only for a few moments, and then it seems right to turn away, in respect of their bareness.  Humbled they are, but without shame, for this is how He intended it.  Death that doesn't destroy, but strengthens.  Coldness that doesn't kill, only stills.  The life-sap slows, bringing the energy of creation to rest.  The trees once robed in color, now stand quietly but confidently in their nothingness, knowing that while they don't produce, don't dazzle or delight, still they stand.  And they wait.

The renewal doesn't come in a day...who knows exactly when spring begins?  We say it's when the clock strikes midnight sometime in late March, but much has already happened by that point.  So much that can't be seen, in the deep places where renewal always begins.  Has anyone ever been fortune's darling and witnessed the very first green nose poke it's way through the bark?  Surely all of heaven celebrates for each one, harbinger bud of creativity, coming awake from the long winter sleep.  The trees have rested well, and seem to gain energy as they spend it.

For several weeks, it would seem as if they've reached the top of the circular cycle, and are rounding the uppermost point, and with ease and speed everything beautiful and exciting happens in an exhilarating rush.  Leaves sprout full and lush and green, screaming vitality.  Flowers burst forth in exultation like cymbals crashing, "NOW!  NOW!  NOW!"  Initiative reaches its full potential and the world is touched with goodness and beauty.  And for a while the life-sap flows continually, throbbing in the veins and it's a time to simply enjoy.

But what of new things?  What could come after this climax, this abundance already excessive?   The tree knows the sign of the times, both from without and within.  The air chills, and the sun begins to shyly step out early and show up late.  The throbbing within begins to feel more like pain than like life, and exhausted from the exuberance of the past months, the sap slows.  The tree senses the oncoming bliss of relief, and knowing the promise of life restored at a later time, she lets go.

Ancient paths of movement that these trees submit to, knowing and trusting in the wisdom of it all - we too move along these paths, learning along the way some of the most beautiful things about the round completeness of our Guide.