There’s something about spring that invites a refresh. Which is more than just a reset of what has already been, of rebooting the same rhythms and systems. There’s an invitation to view what has been and look for opportunities to insert newness.
Maybe it’s the melting snow giving way to peeps of green underneath. Maybe it’s the little buds popping open on once bare branches. The bareness of what was is like an empty canvas inviting the parameters of what was (i.e. flowers) and also an invitation for there to be uniqueness within the parameters. Maybe that tree will always only bear a certain kind of flower, but aren’t the flowers that grow this year new and different? Aren’t the patterns of which they appear different than last year?
Can’t the same be said about us as we enter a new season of spring?
For me, this refresh has looked like inviting more walks in the day. For me this has looked like moving my work space from the office to the porch (on the sunny days of course). It has looked like conversations with neighbors after a long winter of hibernation (and pandemic). It has looked like more visits to coffee shops with baby girl (albeit short trips).
If the idea of inviting newness into your daily living feels hard or paralyzing, let me offer some ways to reframe this thinking:
Changing up what you already have going on in small ways refreshes and doesn’t require dramatic change.
Maybe instead of listening to the podcast series you always listen to on your walk, you decide to take your afternoon walk without listening to anything, opening yourself to observing the world around you a little more, hear the birds and the people, see the sky and play a little “what shape do you see in the clouds” game.
Maybe it means picking up some flowers whenever you’re at the grocery store. A new set of flowers each visit will invite some newness as they are different every time, as the rhythm of emptying out the old vase and adding new flowers is an invitation to refresh all in itself.
Maybe it’s picking up some additional flowers at the grocery store and creating bundles to drop off with neighbors to celebrate May.
Maybe it’s finding a new walking path, testing out a new road you haven’t been on before.
Maybe it’s taking the longer drive home or the more “scenic” route.
Inviting newness doesn’t always require dramatic changes or uprooting all familiarity. It can happen in the subtle simplicity of life.
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