On farms in rural New Hampshire, when spring finally comes, there is a ritual called, “The Dancing of the Ladies.” (And it’s not middle-aged women with flowers in their hair, dancing into the fields.) People come from far and wide to watch herds of milk cows released from winter’s enclosure, freed from barn into field. Apparently, the liberated cows act like children set free at the end of a school year: Kicking up their heels and romping through the fields with delight, glee, joy.
I do not live near a dairy farm. However, my balcony attracts birds. On spring mornings, their chorus wakes me up. Yesterday, as I was singing while preparing lunch, with the balcony door open, I suddenly felt I was not singing alone. My balcony friend and I had gotten into sync. Joy was singing me. Singing us. Its power woke me up. A fully embodied spiritual imperative. And as that power comes awake, how shall I use it? How shall we use it? What does life ask of us?
How are you experiencing the joy of spring? How are you responding to the embodied spiritual imperative of joy?
