Spring Equinox Broadens Sunlight And Awareness

Today at 7:21 p.m, the northern half of our world will begin its annual tip toward the sun. Following this spring equinox, for several days we will experience nearly 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of night.  Then, light will continue to gradually broaden our mornings and evenings.  The door of this season of crocus, daffodil and dogwood is opening.

On a walk through my neighborhood recently, I became aware of the possibility of spring’s new narrative.  Winter’s narrative has been crowded with issues that are personal, local, national and international.  But the greening of lawns, a bluer sky, a few nests in still bare trees have pointed me toward another story.  It is that yearly one of birdcall, flower stems rising from mud, trees budding and the laughter of children.

In this new story, spring offers assistance in seeing beyond immediate concerns.  There have been years when I wasn’t able to take that assistance.  This year, I can and will start by seeing time differently.  Someone said to me recently, “Time is money!”  Ben Franklin coined that expression on a day he wasn’t flying a kite.  We all know other proverbs about time lost and time wasted.

Time is certainly an odd container.  Under deadline, there is not enough of it, in rush hour traffic an hour can seem unendurably long.  The somewhat new, but also ancient, emphasis on mindfulness suggests a different relationship with time.  In a book that I’m reading with several friends, Radical Acceptance, author Tara Brach suggests a regular routine of pausing, perhaps while brushing teeth, getting out of the car, or when first turning on the computer each day. The purpose, she suggests, is to become aware of what is happening in the moment.  And to become aware of any changes after pausing.

My stopping briefly to become more aware is not a routine yet.  But, small changes are yielding large results.  I recently was working on taxes.  Math not being my strongest skill, I came to a particular problem I couldn’t solve.  So, I paused.  That pause became a nap.  On waking, I knew how to approach the issue in a new way.  After crunching the numbers successfully, I gave my husband my work with the taxes.  Then went for a walk.  And discovered a new narrative in the lawns of my neighbors and in the sky.

slowing down
to see the mystery
of this life
can mean
time found

A resident of Salisbury Township, Marilyn Hazelton is poet in residence at The Swain School and recipient of the 2006 Arts Ovation Award for the Literary Arts, from the City of Allentown’s Arts Commission.  She edits and publishes red lights, an international journal featuring tanka, a five-line poetic form