Spring Dancing

Astronomical spring has officially arrived and yesterday’s weather, here in New England, was right on schedule—a cool morning giving way to warm sunshine and clear skies. It was the kind of day where you start off with a light jacket and then, at some point, are compelled to disrobe in response to the delicious and unfamiliar sense of the sun’s radiant warmth.

The clumps of crocus that had the good sense to be planted in south-facing locations have finally joined the snowdrops to be available to the small bees and the other ardent admirers who carefully search them out. Small splashes of purple and gold are the new and welcome decoration to the still mostly gray and brown landscape.

Out for a Sunday morning stroll, two veteran observers of spring and one small rookie ‘keep our eyes open’ and call out the sightings as they come. We walk to the edge of each garden and crouch down for a better look. We’re a good team. We wouldn’t crouch down to look closely if it was just us old folks, and our two-year-old rookie probably wouldn’t think to stop if he were by himself.

Watching for a few moments, we see the nodding white snowdrop blossoms quiver in the light breeze while the crocus stand upright with unmoved intent. Is the movement of the snowdrops a functional adaptation? Is their small white dance on a green stem a necessary device to attract the attention of pollinators (both human and insect)? Or is a slim stem simply the most efficient way to hoist aloft the reproductive organs for better access and all the wiggling without purpose? In either case, we appreciate their delicate and concerted response to the breeze we can barely feel.

Later, sitting lazily on the deck talking about things of small importance, I am overwhelmed by the unfamiliar brightness. Unused to so much warmth and sun, my head begins to ache and I go inside for a nap.

Still later, I give a Zen talk about how the ‘Dharma a thusness has been intimately transmitted by Buddhas and Ancestors’ and illustrate it with a poem by the great Japanese poet-monk Ryokan:

The wind has settled, the blossoms have fallen;
Birds sing, the mountains grow dark—
This is the wondrous power of Buddhism.

The intimate transmission is nothing but the seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching and imagining of this moment and all the Buddhas and Ancestors are here with us as the earth once again dances the slow and sensual dance of spring awakening.