How fresh, oh Lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! even as the flowers in spring
To which, besides their own demean
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.
Grief melts away
Like snow in May,
As if there were no such cold thing.
— George Herbert, The Flower
The Traveller stands at the mouth of the cave, on the threshold between dark and light, looking towards the light.
At the Spring Equinox we stand at a place of balance. Behind, the dark of Dream Time and Winter. Before, the light of spring, energy transforming into fresh forms in every bulb and hedgerow. At the opposite end of the year we call the Autumn Equinox the time of Completion — the “All is safely gathered in” moment at the end of harvest. The Spring Equinox is its mirror image — the moment of first awakening into Renewal. For the rest of the year, the traveller is immersed in either one or other of the two worlds: — the introvert world of Dreaming, where forms “dissolve, diffuse and dissipate” to be rendered into compost — or the extrovert world of Manifestation and form-building. But at the Equinoxes themselves there is a pause, a moment of balance, when we see both ways, and capture perhaps in the same moment both the yin and the yang of the whole in finely balanced proportion. It is a moment of exquisite poise.