At the moment, nature is going full spring: the birds are starting to sing more in the mornings. the early flowers, which started to sprout a few weeks ago anyway, are continuing to sprout. The horses get their summer coat. Yes, clearly: in nature all signs point to spring.
Somehow I’m just not in spring yet. Or so I thought mentally.
Yes, of course, somehow I’m always in the mood for departure. But not yet in the mood for spring. In that mood that sets in at the beginning of every year at the end of the dark winter. In this mood in which my body is flooded with happiness hormones all by itself, just because of spring.
I think for me – even though Mother Nature has set all the signs for spring – the weather is still too dark, still too wet. Not yet ‘cheerful’ enough (does the word cheerful actually have the same root as spring? I’ll have to look it up).
And yet Mother Nature cannot be stopped with her spring programme. Whether I’m ready for it or not. The birds sing cheerfully in the morning. Whether I am happy about it or not. A few days ago I wrote about my understanding of time. The singing bird, that is such a moment in which I can decide, no: I decide whether I immerse myself in it or not.
Side note: no, I CAN’T decide to do something or not to do something. I DECIDE in such moments. There is only an either or here. Either I eat the Gugelhupf or I don’t eat it. There is nothing else. Either way, I decide (or the decision is taken away from me if, for example, a South American bearded vulture takes the Gugelhupf in a swoop). But it is not a matter of ‘being able to decide’. Yes, there are certainly decisions that can be postponed. One CAN seemingly decide or simply postpone the decision. But at some point you also have to make the postponed decision. Or you make it by not deciding. Whether I like it or not, I make a decision. I don’t have a choice. It’s not a matter of I CAN decide.
Back to the topic: spring and the singing bird. The moments that I either immerse myself in. Or which I let pass me by instead. Either way: there will not be a second such moment.
It is up to me to appreciate the moment for what it is: unique.
Or not to do so. In any case, I won’t get a second chance. There won’t be a second spring; just because I’m not in the mood. This spring will pass me by irretrievably as I move further and further towards the ground in my time vessel. That’s why, more and more often in the morning, I decide to immerse myself in the moment of the singing bird. Even though I sometimes make this decision quite unconsciously because I have just slipped on the slippery path and can’t hear the bird because of all the grumbling…. whether I want to or not: such moments also pass irretrievably. Unfortunately.