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Skating away ---
skating away ---
skating away on the thin ice of the new day."
- Ian Anderson, "Skating Away (On the Thin Ice of a New Day)" War Child
March in the Catskill Mountains where I live is storm-tossed, fingers stubbornly reaching back towards a flaccid February and making its point that we anticipate warm spring at our own peril. Three feet of snow a few days ago, neighbors who stand still without power, and another foot coming tomorrow.
And yet, light is changing. The sap is rising. In spite of a spiteful last bite of winter, the red-winged blackbirds have arrived again, and the fire of spring is uncurling.
It is a time of beginnings, this thin ice of a new day. I feel its invitation to let my own sense of fire emerge as the year shifts, and am aware of my balance on that ice, easily shattered.
"Well, do you ever get the feeling that the story'stoo damn real and in the present tense?"
( Ian Anderson, "Skating Away (On the Thin Ice of a New Day)" War Child
Beginnings have such promise, but can be so painful. More often than not, something must break before we can build anew - whether its the filial ties between the Titans and Zeus and his Olympians; or the divine trust for Prometheus, fire-stealer; or our own sense of what we have been.
"We must be willing to get rid of
the life we’ve planned, so as to have
the life that is waiting for us.
The old skin has to be shed
before the new one can come."
(Joseph Campbell, A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living)
Maybe this is why March, with its contradictions, its sense of possibility, and its unique way of making us uncomfortable in our own skins, is such a perfect time of this transition. Its damn realness invites us into the gloriously difficult beginnings of spring.
May you enjoy your new skin!