Call me inconsistent.   This winter, in the midst of blizzards, power outages in single digit temperatures, Ananda closed too often with no income coming in, the kids home from school for far too long, and I stopped dating a man I really like, I was all Zen and accepting. Be grateful! See the positive! Choose happiness!

 

Now it's almost spring. Daffodils are bursting through thawing soil and I can once again see grass in my front yard. Business is picking back up. The woman who zooms down Market St. in her wheelchair at daredevil speed is back in action.   People are doing the most amazingly nice things for me, and my work is appreciated—literally every day something good happens, or a Reiki client tells me how she slept through the night for the first time in years after a session with me. I'm appreciative of all of it. Much in my life is supportive, nurturing, back on track.

 

And I'm soul-weary and exhausted. Cranky. I recently got sick for the first time since I learned Reiki two years ago. Nothing feels like it is enough and I'm having a hard time remembering what makes me happy.

 

Even wearing my favorite dress hasn't helped.

 

I'm not alone in this. Many people I know are worn out, fed up, crying for no obvious reason except that some deep sadness just exploded out of them. Or they have a dear friend or relative—or more than one—who is very sick, or has lost a job, or going through a heartbreaking divorce.   I don't know a single person who isn't concerned about money.  

 

It's as if, after drawing on our reserves all winter, many of us feel we have no reserves left.   Mental, emotional, physical stagnation has become as thick and gripping as the spring mud that is about to cover our lawns. For too many people I've talked to, whatever practices of spiritual and mental health we use—meditation, journaling, exercise, prayer, connection with others, a good dinner, family game night—no longer seem fulfilling, or imbued with purpose. (but they are, they are, keep going with them).

 

We had a hard winter. The economy is still in trouble. We're worn out. Too many of us feel like we're living at survival level (as Americans reading an email newsletter from a holistic healing center, I feel safe in saying that this is probably not literally true for any of us, but I know it is closer to true than many have come into contact with before).   It's simply hard to keep perspective on our difficulties when we're this depleted.   Especially when the season pushes us to re-engage with the world, rather than retreat from it.

 

(raise your hand if there's a part of you that kind of wishes you were still snowbound at home, with a legitimate excuse for not doing things).

 

Spring is all about rebirth, growth, new beginnings and the brilliant release of regenerative energy. It's beautiful and most of us love it, but we have to remember this cliched truth: much of the work of spring is done in the winter, when it looks like plants are dead.   And that work involves gathering and releasing a tremendous amount of energy. There is work to be done before the flowers come out.

 

This winter, for many of us, involved containing that energy, managing the unusual, accepting all that we could not control. Life handed us a great big 'pause' button, but underneath the homebound days, regenerative energy gathered its strength, waited for its moment to push back out.

 

Now we're back to 'real life' and that energy wants out. It's no wonder that one of the first things to be released is pent-up tension. Those of us who lost money have to earn it back. Those who lost time at work have to cram our projects. As the snow melts we are grateful, and then we see the damage it did to our trees and plants. Pot holes are everywhere.   There is rebirth happening, but first we have to clear out the debris and cut back the broken limbs.

In energy work such as Reiki we talk about the healing crisis, a seemingly adverse reaction our bodies or our emotions develop as we begin to get better.

 

In the words of Diane Shewmaker, "A healing crisis takes place when you are not fully and consciously ready for and accepting of whatever may be changing in your life. This creates resistance inside of you. The tension between what was and what is now coming into being influences one or more of the physical, emotional, mental and spiritual levels in varying ways."   She goes on to list what might happen depending on if the healing crisis affects our bodies, our feelings, our thoughts or our spirit, for example, headache, deeply feeling long held sadness, recurring victimization thoughts, questions about self-identity.

 

The good news is that the healing crisis passes and our lives improve.   The bad news is, first we go through it.

 

So: if you've recently found yourself reacting to old patterns and triggers you've thought you've moved past, if you find yourself rethinking the same old trance thoughts of resentment, anger, lack that are not the only truth about your life, if the thought of writing a gratitude list makes you angry enough to hurl something, if the loneliness you thought you'd overcome slams you back in the hole, if your loved one is sick, if you are facing difficult decisions because of money, if the reasons you had created to get through the day seem like foppery and hypnotism:

 

Take a deep breath. Sit down and center yourself. Do something you love, no matter how small, every day. Even if you don't like the choices in front of you, always pick the one that feels even slightly better, that offers the slightest bit more feeling of relief.   More good will come from choosing to feel good.

 

At the same time, don't force yourself into spring before your body and your soul are ready for it. Honor where you are, even as you look forward to feeling better.

 

Remember: it's ok to be scared. We're all scared of something, every single one of us.

 

Remember: We're all in this together. Reach out to each other. Let others help you when you need it. Help them as you can. Acknowledge both.

 

Remember: Spirit is here, everywhere, even when we have trouble feeling its presence.   Spirit is you, and me, not outside of us looking down, but inside us, reaching out, connecting.