Tag Archives: spring

Seasons of Life

Baker
(Photo credit: Jeff Baker)

Spring starts today.  Blues, greens, and yellows.  Sunshine.  Seeds.  Awakening.  Renewal.  Fragrant flowers.  Planting.  Warm breezes.  Imagination.  

Unless you live in the Southern Hemisphere, of course, where autumn starts today.  Browns, oranges, and yellows.  Moonlight.  Abundance.  Rest.  Crunchy leaves.  Earthy haystacks.  Harvest.  Crisp air.  Reflection.  

We share the same planet and yet find ourselves at very different stages.

I once read of a particular culture, possibly a group of Eskimos, who believed that you died every cold, dark night when you succumbed to sleep and that each morning you awakened to a miraculous new life.  What a concept: spring every morning and autumn every evening!

Instead, our world is, to put it precisely, polarized.

We share the same planet and yet find ourselves at very different stages.  It will be the same with those you encounter today.  Be sure to notice.

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Put Me In Coach

3“Baseball, it is said, is only a game.  True.  And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona.” – George F. Will

Baseball is back, and I am happy.  Somewhere in the lazy sunshine, major league teams are taking the field for the first games of spring training, and all is right in the world.  Who am I kidding, all is not right in the world, but when you need a distraction because the world may be going to Crazyland—and reports are that it may have already boarded the plane—some opt for pictures of cute puppies and others choose a stiff drink, but I prefer baseball.

My team is the St. Louis Cardinals.  Tomorrow, 2,685 miles away in Jupiter, Florida, my beloved Redbirds will take on the Miami Marlins for their first game of the new season.  It is so far away from my house that it might as well be on the planet, Jupiter, but all I need to know is that baseball has awakened and that a new season is on the way.  I love how baseball wakes up with the sun in the early spring, hits its stride in the summer heat, reaches its conclusion in the picturesque fall, and hibernates through the dark winter.  So today, as far as I’m concerned, despite the calendar, spring has sprung.

Now truth be told, our mortal enemy, the Chicago Cubs, remains World Series champions, and they have the best lineup in baseball—again.  But this is baseball, and hope springs eternal.  You just never know what might happen.  Heck, listen to me, the Chicago Cubs are reigning World Series champs.  It is undeniable that anything is possible.

That anything is possible may be my favorite way that baseball reflects life.  So on this glorious weekend, wherever you happen to be in the seasons of life, remember that spring is somewhere in the rotation.  Where anything is possible.

Hope SPRINGs Eternal

“People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball.  I’ll tell you what I do.  I stare out the window and wait for spring.” — Rogers Hornsby

Well, spring has sprung, or so I hear: it is hard to tell living in a land of perpetual spring, but the calendar seems rather confident about it.

There is an idyllic conception of spring where the frigid death of winter awakens to butterflies and chirping birds, colorful explosions of flowers, cottony clouds floating across a bright blue sky, and Julie Andrews twirling in musical exultation.  This has not always been my experience, at least on the first day or two.

But spring is real.  Nature is rhythm, and the very planet is predictably reincarnated each year in a birth-death-birth cycle that generates hope in all things if you let it.  In an increasingly insulated and distracted world, however, it takes effort to notice.

Anne Lamott wrote, “I am going to try to pay attention to the spring. I am going to look around at all the flowers, and look up at the hectic trees. I am going to close my eyes and listen.”

I’m with her.  I want to sense hope in every way—to see it, and hear it, and smell it, and taste it, and touch it—and even engage an ineffable (sixth) supernatural sense.¹  I will work at it.  Hope is imperative.

The woods and pastures are joyous
in their abundance now
in a season of warmth and much rain.
We walk amidst foliage, amidst
song. The sheep and cattle graze
like souls in bliss (except for flies)
and lie down satisfied. Who now
can believe in winter? In winter
who could have hoped for this?

– Wendell Berry, Given 58 (2005).

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¹ Inexplicable hope is the substance that undergirds Easter.