In like a lion, out like a lamb. So goes the old saying about March. It’s blustery, changeable, wind-swept, and suddenly, in the very middle, it’s spring (or autumn, depending on where you live). March for me is the month of gigantic, fluffy clouds and unexpected sunshine. It’s the month of new life hatching and it’s the month of praying it survives. It’s magnolia flowers, giant wax sculptures of pink and white, opening over rain-soaked branches. It’s cherry and plum blossoms and their orchid pink explosions, barely out of bud before they’re carpeting the city streets. All around us, things are coming to life and things are getting blown to bits.
For many of us it feels like the current upheaval doesn’t end with nature. Here in the States we’ve been witnessing a painful collision of old and new forms of power. We are living in the unsettled atmosphere of fresh, hopeful ideas coming up against the worst parts of our country’s history and inability to progress. Many of us are longing for emotional shelter for the beating our hearts are taking in the process, while trying to stay awake to the necessary struggle of change and healing. On the other side of the globe, my cousin in Tasmania has just endured a summer in which part of a beautiful, ancient forest near her home burned in a terrifying drought. The summer she has just experienced was unsettling, as she had the distinct feeling of standing at the frontlines of climate change. There are still people in so many places (so many people!) fleeing their homes and desperately seeking shelter and safety. The world is in crisis and in blows March.
And here we are, in menopause, with our own skin literally on fire, our own lives literally in a crisis of change. We are the new butterfly, actively engaged in the struggle of letting go the shell of our old selves. We are unsure yet of who or what we will become. We are face to face with questions, from how to support our changing bodies to how to explain these changes to our partners and family, especially when we don’t have all the words yet. Our children are approaching their last years of school and life with us. Our friends’ lives are changing, too. There is upheaval within us and upheaval without.
Is it any wonder that we’re drawn this month to the word and theme Breathe? It’s exactly what we need, isn’t it? Lungs full of clean air; fresh life and refreshed energy. At Vivid, we’re craving rain-washed mornings as an antidote to feverish nights. We’re energized by vibrant blooms and we ache a little at our fondness for everything in the process of hatching. We’re working on staying kind and open in a world full of hate and despair. Every single day this month we’re going to try and remember to breathe
Breathe, sisters–breathe with us. Blue skies and fresh, new life are on the other side of this.