Spring, a Frenzy of Promise and Peril

by Courage & Renewal Facilitator Paul Michalec

Every year I make it a practice to search out the first signs of spring.  I begin watching long before the snow melts or the winter constellations slide below the horizon.  I seem compelled into this state of being by two sources.  The first is an abiding fascination for the subtle ways that spring asserts the gift of renewal on the landscape.  The second reason is a sense of impatience; enough is enough.  I’ve had enough of winter’s cold and dormancy.  I’m ready to dance in the mud, anticipating spring’s jubilant colors.  

I can tell you that spring is on the way.  I have witnessed the early indications that the earth is leaning toward the sun. But as April shifts to May here in Colorado I find myself wishing that the deep economic, social, and educational winter around me was following the natural world and preparing for spring’s rejuvenation.  I keep watching but little change is evident; “enough is enough.”  How many more families will lose their homes?  How many more individuals will face a major health crisis without the safety of insurance?  How many more students will struggle through another class that feels meaningless and disconnected from what really matters?  

I would truly welcome a little spring right now in the American economic woodlot.  The need is so compelling that a bit of active change seems called for.  I ask myself how I might do more to feed the hungry, support the wounded, or gather wandering learners.  How might I nurture into being the first early signs of spring in my personal and professional life?  And yet I have to monitor my concern for others and my passion for change.  I can find myself, if I’m not careful, with a very full plate of must do’s.  Have you ever found yourself overloaded with projects and tasks of your own choosing?  Especially ones that are intended to turn the world’s need into the spring ground of possibility?  After all, that is what happens in the natural world; the sun warms the earth, the ground thaws, and my flowerbeds and gardens burst forth with growth. But it is also clear to me that no matter how much I might wish it to be different, the human world rarely transitions from season to season as easily as the natural world.

I recently heard the following advice on how to approach the planting of a spring garden.  And like so many truths told at a slant, I also hear words of wisdom for responding to the human world of need: resist over-zealousness in response to the spring urge to plant; watch out for overexertion and sore muscles; set realistic goals for a day’s work; be prepared for winter’s unexpected return; plan ahead for the yield at the end of the summer; and ask an expert for guidance.  My inner gardener of compassion was drawn to the wisdom of “setting realistic goals” and “being prepared for the return of winter.”  But I feel most connected to the virtue of “consulting an expert for guidance.”  Who are your wisdom voices around your personal and professional spring? I turned to this short passage from Thomas Merton.  
 

“There is a pervasive form of modern violence to which the idealist fighting for peace by non-violent methods most easily succumbs: activism and over-work.  The rush and pressure of modern life are a form, perhaps the most common form, of its innate violence. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything is to succumb to violence.  The frenzy of the activist neutralizes [his/her] work for peace.  It destroys the fruitfulness of [his/her] own work, because it kills the root of inner wisdom, which makes work fruitful.”

I have on my office wall a watercolor I painted in response to this quote.  When I find my inner activist vigorously responding to or worse, forcing, the early budding of spring in my personal/professional life I look up at my painting and I’m reminded to move deliberately.  Because as Merton suggests: “The frenzy of the activist neutralizes his/her work for peace.  It destroys the fruitfulness of his/her own work, because it kills the root of inner wisdom, which makes work fruitful.”   For me, “frenzy” carries a distinct spring like feel, a sort of inner disquiet centered on the urge to get really busy really fast.  There is much work to be done at home, at the office, and in the world.

But if I’m not careful, my passion for setting things right, for cleaning up the messes of the thawing world, can actually contribute to disintegration rather than bringing everything into closer harmony with itself and others.  Merton calls this phenomenon “a pervasive form of modern violence…”  And I see his point, although it is hard to fully accept that he is talking about me.  The more I turn my frenzied energy, like the undisciplined nature of spring’s release from a frozen winter, to making everything right, the more I seem to sabotage my best intentions. If I’m not careful I could become an element of the violence in the world that I’m working to redirect into peace and justice.  I could become the sudden return of winter smothering emerging daffodils in a blanket of snow.

I invite you, as we often do in Circles of Trust, to think for a moment about the paradox of spring’s promise and peril.  What if any stirrings of spring rise to the surface as you contemplate Merton’s tale? How might his words move you into a creative response to finding your center amidst spring’s promise and peril? If you painted a picture, what might it look like?  

I believe that spring is a frenzy of promise and peril.  And I look forward each spring to the decisions I make about how to invest my energy so as to advance the greater good in society, my classroom, and home life.  I find it helpful to think about these choices through the lens of a gardener.  What plants grow best in the soil I’ve cultivated?  When and how should I thin my thriving garden?  Who else should I consider inviting into my garden to help with the multitude of tasks?  

I invite you now to share your story of spring and your understanding of Merton’s quote with the rest of our virtual circle of trust.  Type a few words into the comment box on our blog.  I’m looking forward to hearing your truth.