We must learn to trust the dark earth of our lives. We must learn to know when our job is done. There is always work to do – the seeds have to be planted just right. We must learn the rhythms of our lives, of the world. We have to know what side of the trees the sun rises from. In the spring of our lives, careful consideration must be given to how, when, where we are planting our seeds. This is another topic.

This year, I’m interested in the mystery. I’m interested in trusting the dirt of my life. We’ve tilled the soil, churned up that black earth again and again. We’ve studied the sun and the moon. We know some things about when the winds will change again. Surely, we do not know everything. We can’t. But it feels like we know enough to sit back a while and watch. And maybe not even watch, maybe lose ourselves in a game for a while. Maybe we forget our dreams, our seeds, our ripening and simply drip in the water of presence. Soak in the sunlight just like the thawing soil does. There is no hurry to melt, soften, become summer. We have nothing but time here.

I have spent a good while now directing my energy. And that has been good. It has been more than good. And I plan to continue that. But especially now, at this turning of the season, the equinox, there seems to be importance in total surrender. At least for an afternoon, hopefully longer. A surrender that says, “I do not know anything”.

The cracking open of a seed, the chute that emerges, these are miracles. Miracles that require you to trust that you have done all you can and must. You have tilled, you have carefully considered, you have planted. The dirt knows more than you. The sun knows more than you. This spring, absolutely, knows more than you ever will.

This spring wants you to lose yourself in dark earth for a bit. Make some space for what is to come. Empty yourself of yourself. Let all the knowing that has crowded your brain take a long hike up a greening hillside, perhaps laying down to die. Let die the formulas, strategies, plans for a good year. This spring knows more than you do. This earth, this sky, your breath know more than you do.