When everything wants to bloom at once

From winter into spring without letters. Life moved me so deeply these past months that I lost touch with my usual moments of reflection. With the pregnancy and the arrival of our son Noah, I let everything else fall away.

Everything is subject to change, even my dedication to something of great value to myself and others. This winter, I let myself die again to who I am and how I move through life. Instead of telling myself what mattered, I chose to miss it first. It brought me here, into a new cycle of letters, written from a new life, where everything is different and somehow still the same.

Hope is essential in spring. I look upon the bare earth with anticipation, now that the first signs of growth are showing. Better to first discover what wants to grow, than to decide it upfront. Even in spring, a measure of surrender to the unknown is required. Of course, I hope for the best, but I know nothing for certain. In hope resides surrender, because I never truly know what will thrive. Hope keeps me standing in the dreams I nourish, whether or not they come to be.

Between abundance and direction

Spring is an exercise in trust in the natural unfolding of life. Though much is awakening within us right now, we do not know what will ultimately bear fruit. Willpower alone will not get us there, we have to listen to what life desires from us. Discerning the will of life amidst the everyday noise remains a challenge. Trusting what is (and that it is good as it is) can help. In our surrender, life gently nudges us in the right direction, towards a joyous sense of possibility, a vibrant anticipation of what may come.

The youthful tension that comes with so many possibilities can make us restless. We risk flying off course when our attention scatters across all that wants to grow. This wild growth, so fitting for spring, cannot be sustained unless we tend to the foundations that make growth possible.

Where the light comes in

The most important foundation in spring is the season of Lent, a time of abstinence and stillness, found in some form in all the great traditions. We need abstinence to guide us towards what is pure within, it is the trial that enables the expansion of new life and the rebirth of ourselves. By refraining from what does not truly matter, we create space for life to speak to us about the unseen that longs to be seen.

How you give shape to your Lent is personal, but I invite you to reflect on what disconnects you from your soul’s desire. I tend to focus on the small distractions that cut me off from the great love that carries me through the day. The image I keep in mind is that of an inner crystal castle, inspired by Teresa of Ávila. The castle sparkles in the light when I am in harmony with my soul, but slowly crumbles away every moment I fall out of my awareness of love.

I recently read these words in a booklet by Hans Korteweg: “Anyone who wants to live in love and work with heart and soul must restrain their personality.” It is a good rule for any season, but in spring it is of particular importance. With discipline, we strengthen our foundation and grow slowly and steadily towards the full expression of our dreams.