Every ancient culture recognizes springtime as formative and holy. Spring is when Persephone returns home from Hades and the Underworld to her mother Demeter, goddess of nourishment and harvest. Norse spring goddess Idun’s name literally means ever-young. In India, as in many places, springtime calls for celebration; the Saraswati Puja festival honors the goddess of art, wisdom, and lotuses. Noting the obvious, a certain hunky carpenter also rose from the dead this season. With universal themes of rebirth and fertility, spring is inherently, powerfully feminine. Tapping into this energy can be an invigorating spiritual practice.
Now that the sun is finally shining in Seattle – at least for a few days each week, knock on wood – breathing is just easier. I’ve found that spring always makes me feel like a completely different person, and my friends agree: when the daffodils and cherry trees start to bloom, gratitude and hope blossom with them. It feels profound and momentous and detoxifying, so much so that I’m writing an article about it. Are we just chronically vitamin-D deprived from Seattle’s notorious gloom? Is college life so merciless that our standards for happiness are as low as the sun peeking out from behind the clouds? Maybe of Montreal’s song “Springtime is the Season” is simply adorable enough to change someone’s entire outlook on life. Or we ask the stars – according to libramoonastrology.com, spring marks Aries season, which means “Grandiose dreams are born and wild speculation is rampant.” Hmm.
Everything in the universe has its rhythm, its ripple effects. The truth is, we are biologically programmed to feel lighter in spring. Elementary school taught us the phases of the moon, the water cycle, and plenty more fundamental understandings of the natural world around us, but we get so busy and tunnel-visioned that we forget to appreciate things we don’t have control over. Here’s some cool stuff about spring to instill you with a cosmic optimism that would make Persephone proud:
At the North Pole, the sun only rises once a year – at the beginning of spring. (So if you think we have it bad in Seattle…) It continues rising until the summer solstice (did you know that solstices are only for summer and winter, and equinoxes are only for spring and autumn? I didn’t) when it begins to set. I assume Santa struggles with seasonal depression. (livescience.com)
Spring brings with it seven (lucky) primary seasonal constellations. Try looking for them next time the night sky is clear enough: the Great Bear, Ursa Major (a.k.a. the Big Dipper); the Herdsman, Boötes; the Crab, Cancer; the Lion, Leo; Berenice’s Hair, a funky three-star grouping named for Egypt’s Queen Berenice II; the Serpent, Hydra; and, fittingly, the Maiden of Spring (Virgo). To quote celestron.com, “Springtime is known as ‘Galaxy Season’ as galaxies are plentiful, especially those that lie in the Virgo Cluster.”
Humans aren’t the only organisms with circadian rhythms. Plants have them too – that’s how they know when to bloom. Using phytochrome receptors that monitor light and temperature, plants can sense when to flower and prepare for pollination. Plants can also retain memory at the cellular level; flowers have been around for 150 million years, so they’re used to the seasons changing on a timer. (If you want to learn more about this, Dasha Savage does a really cute TED-Ed YouTube video called “How plants tell time.”)
Humans react with light, too. As the days get longer and our bodies sense more sunshine, our pineal glands order our brains to decrease melatonin production. This process also explains why we feel so lethargic in winter: melatonin is our primary sleep chemical. You may feel more ambitious in spring as your body literally exits hibernation mode. Human anatomy is honestly just a pile of systems that we sit on top of, obliviously, eating hot chips or doing taxes.
Principles of meditation call for unity between body and mind. This midterm season, as you channel your springtime rejuvenation into exams, remember that you were not born to be a test-taking machine. Rather, you are an infinitely complicated, miraculous creature, constantly taking subconscious cues from Mother Nature and the atmosphere as they summon you to bloom.