Renewal requires letting go

The changing of the seasons, movement from the abundance of summer to the gathering of autumn or from the stillness of winter to the hum of spring, always nudges me toward melancholy. Thoughts gather around those who have come and gone from my life. I wonder who will come next and what lessons I've yet to learn.

For better or worse, these nudges always peak in the spring, and I don't think I'm necessarily alone.

This is this time of year when Pagans throughout the world celebrate the return of the sun as a part of Ostara. And today, Easter, a name derived from the same origin, Christians throughout the world celebrate the return or resurrection of the son known as Jesus. Some strongly hold a literal interpretation that a man died and then returned to life. Others view the story of the resurrection as a metaphor for an undying spirit.

RURAL ROOTS

Whether within the Pagan, Christian or any number of other belief or nonbelief camps, however, this is a season that is steeped in the symbolism of renewal and the triumph of life over death.

For instance, Osiris, Attis, Odin, Dionysus and Jesus all had to die. Most were hung from trees or wood, and then buried in the ground only to rise once more. Sacrificial death becomes creation. The lifeless seed sprouts, and the tomb becomes a womb.

It is because of this that I am so often amused by polling detailing the strongest religious beliefs to be present in rural areas. How could they not when so many holy days and cultural rituals bear such a striking resemblance to rural life? People must consume life in order to live, and those closest to the process often hold the greatest understanding and respect for it.

While speaking to Bill Moyers in the 1980s, Joseph Campbell explained the intertwining of our shared experiences.

BITTERSWEET OF LIFE

' ... Good and evil are relative to the position in which you are standing,” Campbell said. 'What is good for one is evil for the other. And you play your part, not withdrawing from the world when you realize how horrible it is, but seeing that this horror is simply the foreground of a wonder: a ‘mysterium tremendum et fascinans.' ...

'I will participate in the game. It is a wonderful, wonderful opera - except that it hurts.”

As we enter and celebrate this season of renewal, it is doubtful anyone need remind supporters of the Cedar Rapids casino project that the game of life is too often bittersweet. We can become so vested in a vision or plan, allowing it to draw energy from all aspects of our life, that its death leaves only shock and numbness in its wake. Our eyes become so glazed by the past and 'what ifs” that even if a path immediately formed before us, we could not walk it.

If I close my eyes right now, I can still see the rows of colorful, wet Easter eggs of my youth. They are queued up on the kitchen table, cradled by a bed of newspaper. The little wire holders used to dip the eggs in a mishmash of bowls and cups of dye are scattered about, and someone - probably my brother - bears the mark of a desecrated chocolate bunny on an upper lip.

This, like so many memories, is strong. It is in fact so strong that if I hold onto it long enough, I can smell the vinegar used to mix the dye and the Aqua Net on my mother's head. As much as I want to breathe it all in, pull a little deeper in search of my father's aftershave or the coffee brewing on the counter, I open my eyes against the sting of tears.

MOVING FORWARD

This is only a snapshot of what was, which can never be again. I can do my best to reinact the scene as part of ongoing family tradition, but it is impossible to fully relive.

The renewal of spring, for all of its vibrancy and promise, isn't for sissies.

We must nod at what was and let go of what might have been. We must leave things behind so that we have room to pick up the new as we move forward. It is only with light hearts that we can expect to roll back the stone, and, only with newly refocused eyes, understand the promise of what is (or is not) inside.

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