The first blooms of spring make my heart sing
If I had to pick the most beautiful weeks of the year in Southern California, it would be the weeks around late April and early May. It’s when the first full bloom sweeps across the land like a giant blanket falls overnight. Cherry blossoms, lilies, bougainvillea, and my favorite, roses. It seems they have got a super important appointment and everyone is super punctual.
After the fall of the first bloom, everyone sets its own blooming clock, hops on its own wagon. Before we know it, spring has packed its bags, summer is fast upon us.
It’s late May now. As I walked around this morning, the sight of fallen flowers reminded me of the fleeting nature of spring. A poem came to my mind, “The flowers have fallen, but spring is still there.” Humans are good at signaling. We tend to use one point in nature to mark another point in life, although the latter point might not physically exist. This is where perception comes into play
It’s so perpetual yet incredibly personal.
As we witness the first blooms of spring, we can’t help but revel in their beauty. The flowers, the vivid color, bring us immense joy and hope. In the meantime, a familiar fear is looming. The end of spring. This human perception is reminded by the fall of the first bloom. The dread of the inevitable is multiplied by the amount of chill we enjoy at this moment. It can be overwhelming.
We often forget this is just a perception. The fall of flowers does not signify the end of spring unless we think it does. In the same way, we can choose to think that spring remains ever-present in our hearts.
I had a long conversation with a dear friend recently. He went through a tough time. After 30 years of marriage, he found himself facing a divorce. His voice was filled with sorrow, lamenting the loss of his marriage and the golden years he had invested. I was momentarily at a loss for how to comfort him. Was he mourning the loss of his wife or the passage of time?
Then I told him, “You lost one person, but perhaps you’ve gained a new world.”
I know it may not sound like coming from a longtime friend. Any books or articles we resort to may provide the same words — life has a way of offering new beginnings even when we feel like we’ve lost everything.
Su Dongpo, a Chinese poet who lived a thousand years ago, faced exile and poverty in his later years. But he maintained an incredible outlook. He said, “When I see flowers in my eyes, spring comes and goes. When I have flowers in my heart, it is always spring.” His words highlight a powerful truth: the seasons of our lives are largely shaped by our perceptions and attitudes.
A few weeks later, my friend called me again. He was feeling better. He realized that his world had been narrowly focused on his ex-wife. By losing her, he found an opportunity to discover a new world. The world had always been vast, but he had been viewing it through a narrow lens. Now, with his heart open, he could see the beauty and possibilities that lay ahead.
As we navigate our own lives, it’s important to draw a line between the loss of individual ‘flowers’ and the enduring presence of ‘spring.’ Our losses, whether they be relationships, opportunities, or time, do not define the entirety of our existence. What truly matters is how we choose to perceive and embrace the world around us.
Let’s keep spring in our hearts, no matter the season. We can find joy, renewal, and endless possibilities even in the face of adversity. It’s about finding beauty in every moment and letting that beauty shape our perception.
When I have flowers in my heart, it is always spring.
