We’re still walking on water in this
ridiculous part of the world. There’s nothing religious in that.
The sad truth of it is that there is still 33 inches of ice between us and water in its liquid
But it’s spring. We all feel it.
Rosie the dog is possessed by an almost constant urge to writhe
demonically on her back in shrinking patches of remaining snow. Five or six
times each day she bats at the bell we hang from the front door just
so that she can go out for a roll.
Sap is running. Days above the
freezing mark and nights below are what thrill maple trees.
They’re gushing this week.
Crocuses are waking up, I’m sure of
it, finding their bearings and muscling their way toward the light.
And like some Monsanto floral-human
hybrid I am filled to bursting with the same crocus-y urges.
I’m writing this at 4:30 am, after a full asana practice and meditation, and it’s all I can do not to wake my
lovely man just to be happy together. (He often says that 4am makes me a touch happier than it makes him.)
Crocus energy completely changes my
practice. That combination of reaching toward the sky while sending
roots into the earth taps into everything happening underground right
now. There is an ecstasy about it.
And I swear that after my Sun Salutations there is warm liquid running down my upper back. God, I
love that feeling. This morning it feels like sap. Light, sweet,
O man, bring it on. Spring is here.
Does it change your practice? Do you
swoon? Are you one of the Crocus People?
Thanks to Spring for bringing us back
to life when we had no idea we were hibernating in the first place.
Thanks to yoga for being very old but very new, and thanks to you for