Loss is the other side of having. I forget it is not a one-sided coin. And when I do, when loss shows up, I get a little indignant, like who invited you to my party?
Spring is starting to show up here in cultivated areas, where we plant a crocus or flowering tree to prove that warmer days are ahead.
But the wild spaces, where we don’t have a say in what happens, those lay silent. The green is arriving, but mostly all you see are the dead twigs and stems of last year’s growth. And lots of mud.
It is dead. Or at least, that’s how it looks.
Sometimes I get mad at wanting. Wanting opens us up to scary things like failure and not getting. It also opens us up to our true selves, which is both thrilling and frightening. Wanting is outside our control and so many of us, much of the time, find it easier to just turn off our wanter, or muffle it with a pillow.
Children want. That’s all they do, it seems. I want to eat turns into I want my blue spoon turns into I want to wear my pink cowboy boots and swimsuit turns into I want an iPod. (This is as far as my experience takes me, I hear the wants get more expensive and precarious.)
Nature wants too. Nature does more than that, it insists and persists. Grass wants to grow and insists on it, even if there is a little concrete in the way.
Loss and emptiness are how it goes. Newness and growth are how it goes too. What looks like loss is a temporary quiet, a promise of what is soon to come.