When it’s really cold and horrible out, my spouse and I walk the shopping mall near where we live. I noticed the other day that swimsuits are already out and the darker colors of winter clothing have given way to the pastels and soft fabrics of this year’s spring collections. It’s a funny thing to see because it’s an attempt to draw a firm line between winter and summer. The season of cold and darkness is over and warm weather and sunshine is here by decree of first quarter profit needs. It’s reductionist in such an extreme way that it’s patently ridiculous.
One of the threads of connection that has been nourishing for me for many years now is ancestral veneration. That can look like a lot of different things. Sometimes it’s lighting candles or meditating in an attempt to hear what my ancestors have to say, but it’s also a perspective as much as anything else. I feel like it’s really easy to fall into the trap of thinking that the way we live now, the concerns we wrestle with, and the challenges that make up our days, are the way it’s always been.
Every change of seasons – these calendar markers we set based on astronomical timings – includes microseasons and subtle shifts down here on planet Earth. Trying to shift gears suddenly from winter to high spring ignores one of the most challenging microseasons and it’s the one we happen to be in right now. For our human ancestors who lived in regions like this one and in latitudes further north, this time of year was hard. It was the lean times, the starving times. The winter stores of food would have been almost used up. The spring planting cycle was only just beginning and none of those crops would be ready to harvest for some time yet. Some livestock bear young now – even to this day we associate lambs with early spring – but none of those animals would have been ready for culling for months. This time of year was one of tightening belts and of going without. Of being cold as well as hungry. The winter stores of fuel would have been just as depleted as the winter stores of food. Our ancestors were rationing carefully even as the days grew longer.
And whether we realize it or not, these subtle shifts in season remain connected to us. Being human means being part of a legacy of experience that leaves marks in our very DNA. It’s part of why so many of us get restless and discontent during this time of year. We know there’s something we’re supposed to be doing, but we’re not sure what. We’re twitchy, but not sure why. Even with enough food and warmth something feels off. Add a challenging seasonal shift to the more sinister and frightening shifts happening on a national level and it’s a recipe for a very rough early spring.
One of the most beautiful aspects of Pagan religious practice is that it invites us to go deeper into natural cycles. To lean in and do as much as we can to embody being part of this world rather than separate from it. My own answer to the somewhat uncomfortable shift toward springtime is to thoroughly feel this season of transition. A beloved friend has this great saying: “if you hold the practice, it will hold you.” It’s the idea that spiritual practice isn’t some sort of vending machine where you put in time and get a spiritual cookie. It’s a relationship with a pattern or a structure that then offers its own support or insight over time. It’s not transactional. It’s the living practice of faith and presence.
My daily spiritual practice includes a stop outside. For me, it’s a visit to three places on the land I belong to. And given what the weather in Maryland is like in February and March, it’s not always a long stop. The point is less about having a deep revelatory experience with the silver maple tree in my yard and more about observation and plugging myself into the very real natural processes happening where I live, even if only for a moment.
So I know spring is coming. I can tell because the sound of the birdsong has changed dramatically over the last few weeks. I recognize the difference because I know the sound of winter where I live. I know spring is coming because the skunk cabbage down by the stream is starting to open new leaves. They’re one of the earliest plants to do so in our region. I notice that difference because I see the spot where the skunk cabbage grows every day. And I know the weather is still cold and variable because I spend a few minutes outside just being present with it. But I can also smell and feel the subtle shift – the hint of moisture in the breeze that promises the coming spring. I can feel it the same way my ancestors have felt it for thousands of years. Being connected to these small changes as a practice means feeling more stable and present with the turning toward the light. I hold the practice, and it holds me.
Unitarian Universalism honors both humanism and the interdependent web of existence of which we are all part. To me, choosing to be a human present with the land and species we share this web of existence with is a good answer to both of those ideas. Intentionally pausing outside connects me to this specific time and place, but it also connects me to our human heritage of direct relationship with the local ecosystem. As we open to the changing season, my first suggestion for deepening connection is to choose one place to visit almost every day where your only goal is to notice. This doesn’t have to be a romantic or bucolic location. It can be a tree you walk past, or the balcony of your apartment, or the front step of your house. Simply pause. Give it five breaths to start with. Simply notice what is.
Along with feeling rooted to the past and the pattern of human landconnectedness, it is good to reach toward the future as well. One uplifting activity that I tend to engage in during this transition season is a visit to a botanical garden with a conservatory. There are several within driving distance of Frederick: Rawlings Conservatory in Baltimore, Brookside Gardens in Wheaton, and the United States Botanic Garden in D.C. are a few options.
In these conservatories, we get the wonderful experience of summer even if we had to walk past piles of snow on our way to the door. I have found that for me, this full sensory immersion into the feeling of the growing season is a useful touchstone for staying connected to the spring to come. It’s a lived reminder that the darkness passes, that the green and growing world will awaken, and that soon enough we will be surrounded by vibrant green leaves and flowering branches. No matter how many times I’ve engaged in the practice of going to a conservatory during the cold season, I’m always freshly amazed at what a few hours of warmth, light, and the scent of growing plants will do for my mind.
Turning points in the seasonal calendar are also good opportunities to reset. To notice where we’ve drifted off course or dropped some threads we’d rather be weaving. We can see this pattern of evaluation and reset in the idea of spring cleaning. I would argue that although spring cleaning is good for the spaces we live in, it’s more important for our minds than anything else. A spring clearing to match the spring cleaning. Every winter the land we belong to changes in subtle ways. The freezing and thawing cycle of ice introduces new fissures to the earth. Heavy snowfall breaks branches. High winds can down entire trees. And here we are coming out of a winter heavy with worry. The storms that came this year took many forms and our internal landscape may have shifted in response.
Just as connecting with the natural cycles where we are involves observation first, doing some personal spring clearing begins by simply becoming present. If you’re open to it, I invite you to settle back into your chair and soften your gaze or close your eyes completely. Bring one hand to your heart and another to your belly. Take a few deep breaths.
Feel the movement of your breath beneath your hands. The rise and fall of your chest and belly. Maybe you can even feel your heartbeat along with your breath cycle.
Now, check in with yourself. Notice how you are feeling. No judgement or reward. Simply notice. What sensations are present? What emotions are surfacing for you?
Staying connected to how you’re feeling, imagine springtime for a moment. The warm sunlight, the flowers opening, the grass becoming green once more.
Notice what, if anything, shifted.
Whenever you are ready, you’re welcome to release that visualization and open your eyes.
Depending on what you noticed, maybe there are some areas you’d like to loosen, soften, or transform for spring. Inner clearing can be a choice to focus more on the emotions we wish to cultivate. Determination. Hope. That which is fed increases. Inner clearing can be a choice to become more present to the cycle of nature. How does it feel to stand in the sunlight and listen to the birdsong? What can we let go of in order to make more space for being present? Inner clearing can be a conscious assessment of mental patterns and an investment in changing them. During this season of transformation, is it also time to reach out for help? To invest in a summer harvest of greater peace of mind by cultivation of our inner landscape?
One of the touchstones I hold as a Pagan is the natural cycle. No matter what I’m doing, no matter what is happening in the world of human politics and concerns, the cycle of darkness to light, of cold to warmth, will happen. Orienting ourselves to that natural cycle gives us a source of stability when the human world gets chaotic. No matter what is happening, daffodils will open. No matter what is happening, dogwoods will flower. No matter what is happening, robins will build nests and lay sky-blue eggs in them.
Our ancestors survived the lean times year after year, knowing that no matter what, life and warmth were coming. They just had to hold fast and be smart about their resources. They just had to stay present and to find the little causes for hope, the subtle reminders that this too shall pass.
And so the threads come together. The pattern of human history and the cycles of nature stretch back as far as we can imagine, intertwined. An endless story of emergence from darkness into light, from challenge into ease, from lean times into abundance, from ignorance into knowledge. When we hold the practice of connection to the natural cycle it roots us to the resilience of those who came before us and the reminder of all they survived, whether the challenge was one of winter or a disaster of human making.
No matter what happens, the days will grow longer. No matter what happens, spring is coming. It is up to us to decide what tools we bring to this transition. Presence, clearing, intention, and connection are all possible. Consider what you are rooting into this spring, what your inner landscape needs, and how best to embody the wisdom of the ancestors. The land is ready to begin the cycle of growth again. As we once more step into sunlight, what are you leaving in the shadow?
And, how best can you hold the practice so that it can hold you?
This sermon was offered at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Frederick on Sunday, March 2nd, 2025.
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