It feels cruel that spring should finally arrive hand-in-hand with events that have felt like deaths. The ending of a friendship that is far more complex than just two people who once loved being together and can no longer harmoniously connect has left me grief-stricken – I feel like a piece of me has died. The death of, as Joan Didion wrote, “a couple of people I used to be” has left me feeling like a foreigner within my own life. And, one of the people who has supported me through the changes leading up to where I am today is no longer by my side. How do I bloom like all of the buds that have appeared on the trees in the last few days when I feel so devastated and confused by all of these “deaths”?

The changing season reminds me that nothing stays the same for very long and what looks like, and feels like death, always brings forth new life and new opportunities. Despite the brutally cold winter, the buds have started to appear, the birds have returned with their melodies, and I too will bloom into a new self while strengthening existing relationships and building new ones. Change and growth can be unbearably painful sometimes, but not as painful as getting stuck in a way of being or in a relationship that just isn’t working anymore.

I leave you with a section of a Rumi poem that rings true in my life right now:

There are many winds full of anger, and lust and greed.
They move the rubbish around, but the solid mountain of
our true nature stays where it’s always been.

About djunapassman

I teach yoga, write, and edit. I live in a Brooklyn neighborhood that is changing faster than I can, or care to, keep up with. It's basically gentrification at its finest. Manhattan still beckons me to her island a few subways stops away, reminding me of when I lived amongst her daily hustle and bustle.
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