It’s April. What Alan calls “shoulder season”. That time of year when it’s no longer the depths of winter, but not quite warm yet, either.
It’s a time to remain vigilant. The fire must be kept burning and a winter coat must stay near. The morning may surprise you with a crisp layer of frost or awaken you with a warm breeze.
But it’s hard to stay wary. You want it to be real. You feel the first breath of spring and get caught up in its elixir. You let down your guard. And in one fell swoop your optimism is crushed like a daffodil under the weight of a late snowfall.
I fear we are entering shoulder season for this virus. We want it to be over. We want to feel the warmth of human connection again. But we must remain vigilant.
I dive into work to keep my mind off the things I can’t control. But right now work is fictional. A figment of my imagination. A few actual tasks, but mostly machinations designed to make me feel busy again.
I so long to feel busy.
But my creativity is caught. Trapped between my scattered mind and my empty hands. Teetering on the tip of my shoulder. The creative fire about to burn out. I throw a log into the simmering flames and hope it catches. An idea. A new direction. Some bit of something that caught my attention. I must remain vigilant.
Time is the only thing that separates one season from another. Spring from winter, harvest from dormant, creativity from rest. I must give it time. Slow my breathing to match this new pace of the world. Lower my shoulders to let the tension slide away. Remain vigilant, but step lightly. Ever so lightly.
Spring will come again.