Spring Showers

Be still sad heart and cease repining;
Behind the clouds the sun is shining,
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life a little rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
Longfellow

Spring comes slowly in these northern climes. I read of pear trees and mrytle bushes as Glynn wrote in his beautiful post this morning, Mourning the Sheep or see the buds photographed by Susan at Just... A Moment in her post, Spring and I want there to be buds and blossoms and greenery all around.

And we have snow. Visible rain, I tell myself. It's just rain looking to be seen.

Spring edges in slowly, holding onto vestiges of winter, clinging to the thought of chilly nights and roaring fires. Of silent dawn and sugary branches bending toward the ground.

Spring comes slowly. Tentative. Curious. Cautious.

Like relationship. It unfolds, pushing back and edging forth, skirting areas where fear and possibilities co-exist in tentative harmony. Seeking fertile ground. Embracing new life.

There is always a little frost to be chilled out in relationship.

Recently, C.C. and I had a tiff. Don't remember the source, or the exact content. What I remember is the discord. The feeling of unease, of playing the role of 'victim' and clinging to it like a leaf dreading fall's inevitability.

After a day of living in my discord, which felt mighty uncomfortable, I grew tired of myself. Spring thaw was awaiting and I was blocking up the flow with my icy thoughts and frigid demeanour.

What's the story I'm telling myself about C.C.? I asked my journal.

And the words flowed.

He was. He is. He doesn't. He can't. He didn't. He won't...

You know, that litany of sins another casts that shadows our happiness in the moment. The doings of another that are not our fault...

Who's telling the story?

Well, that would be me, myself and I.

What's in it for me to keep telling a story that causes me angst? Gets me less of what I want in life and in our relationship?

Oh shoot. There's that irritating spring bud poking its way out of the ground, breaking through the perma frost, searching for light.

There's a lot in it for me to keep myself in the victim's place and him in the perpetrator's role. I mean, really... it's not my fault... I'm doing my best...

Do I need to make him look like he's doing his worst? Or at best, mediocre?

What if it's not about blame or fault or who's right or wrong. What if it's all about getting through this frigid clime to find the hope of new blossoms shooting through the growth that comes with owning up to my accountability and responsibility in this relationship?

What if... it's about me being real and accepting this is real. This relationship is our common ground. We determine its value. We determine its worth -- and I get what I give.

What if... it's all about breaking up the ice to flow freely under spring's welcoming warmth.

Spring comes slowly in these northern climes. Sometimes, a spring snow shower frosts the earth in a splendid white blanket that momentarily hides the buds and promise of new blossoms to come.

Sometimes, clouds hide the sun.

And always it shines.

The question is: What do I want in relationship? The answer is: What am I willing to give? What do I bring?