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Making Things Happen

It felt like Spring wouldn't come unless we made it happen. Fresh snow, dark clouds, bitter wind. The mystery of Spring, poems, spring poems, myth, enchantment.


It felt like Spring would not come unless we made it happen. Fresh snow, dark clouds, bitter wind. Exertion and perseverance may still restore it to reality, where so far it has seemed like a myth. But it is a myth too. Spring is wrapped in soul and spirit and we have to go deep into the ancestry of the earth to find its essence.

This is something which is difficult to say never mind do. Making things happen is a profoundly mysterious process. Even on the most superficial of levels we hardly know what causes the will to make the arm move. And so, so much more is involved in uncovering the secrets of life or causing them to be enacted.

To talk about making Spring happen may seem like a metaphor concerning a myth, but if so why are there so many pagan and Christian rites – and those of every other religion – surrounding this time of year? A ritual or sacrament is essentially an enactment. Is there some hidden cause in the will which discovers soul and spirit in the seasons? Which makes them happen?

The answer is in the eternal. Quite literally. Spirit hands touch and won’t let go. Soul remembers soul from times gone by. The invisible enacts itself within us. Sacrament, cultus, rite and ritual know this. We don’t only have to make things happen. Spring after all is not a task or deep ordeal. It’s just a need which love intends to find.



Spring snow will renew a search for kindling,
which leads back into the secluded soul;
bitter wind will expose long-buried roots
which hold an old vitality in trust.
Black clouds may summon self within dark self
to bring back life from its enchanted source;
cold waves of day encounter troughs of night
but spirit hands will touch and won’t let go.
Spring is not a name to conjure lightly -
the icy darkness speaks it in your heart.

But blue sky lets the lamb remain alive
and fills the dawn with kindly tenderness;
truthful sun discovers what earth has learned
in frozen rocks and mountain-tutored springs.
Then bright air draws the hills from vision’s sleep
and everything lies far but near in name;
shy wind reveals its hurts to southern light
and soul remembers soul from time gone by.
So Spring is not a task or deep ordeal
but just a need which love intends to find.


Best wishes, today,
Jay Landar

©Jay Landar 2013. All rights reserved
You are welcome to quote from Light on the Page on the condition that you cite the author and the source: Author: Jay Landar. Source: For other permissions please contact the author.

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