March began with a nice snow storm. I’m glad because (selfishly) I didn’t have to go anywhere and because the yard and driveway were getting way too muddy. I can’t stand the dirt between winter and spring, there is muck in the dog’s feet which she tracks all over the floor, slime on boots which dries into a rocky dust on the floor is you don’t mop it up right away. You just can’t get muck out of the carpet unless you pull out that disgusting rug cleaner from the basement. The mud has a lot of things in it, like deer droppings, and who knows who else’s dropping, beside all the debris that collects over the winter, rocks, crewed up bird seed, branches, just plain disgusting dirt. What can I do with all this mud?
Kirkridge printed this wonderful poem by Parker Palmer:
"I will wax romantic about spring and its splendors
in a moment, but first there is a hard truth to be told:
before spring becomes beautiful,
it is plug ugly, nothing but mud and muck.
I have walked in the early spring through fields
that will suck your boots off, a world so wet
and woeful it makes you yearn for
the return of ice. But in that muddy mess,
the conditions for rebirth are being created."
There are many things hidden in the mud that hold the seeds of rebirth. Think of the spring peepers waiting until their world thaws out a little before they get to sing their beckoning song. Yes, there is hope in the mud, but I can’t wait until it’s gone. The wind is helpful in drying up the mud. When the mud is overwhelming and we have a few days of a nice steady wind, the mud tends to dry faster, and when it dries all those disgusting things that are part of the mud tend to disappear - not the life, but the mess. What a blessing a little breeze can be. There are so many songs that talk about the wind, but what is more important is to pay attention to the the wind that blows through our lives. What change is it beckoning us toward, what opportunity is knocking at the door? What is is calling us to clean up? Is it bringing healing or helping push us forward when we’d rather stay stuck? As Cat Stevens reminded us, listen to the wind of your soul.