three little bird eggs

HOLY DAYS • SPRING • INSPIRATION

Author: R.R. Shakti, PhD

My childhood winters in the US Midwest were long. Once Christmas had past it was mostly just snowy, drizzly, dreary days and long nights. Nearly half the year you'd spend under cloud-cover, seeing your breath when you talk, waking up for school in the long cold dark.

Long.

Daylight would arrive each morning a little sooner...and a little sooner...and a little sooner.
Then one day, like a sunrise blast over the horizon, the entire world felt different.
The world looked different. Life changed in an instant.
It happened just around Easter. 

They say that when Jesus arose from the tomb, not all of his friends recognized him at first. He had changed. That makes sense to me.
Within the three dark nights of a new moon Jesus had been crucified, traversed into the underworld, ascended into heaven, and returned to solid Earth. It stands to reason, his aura would have looked a little different.

Per usual, Jesus provides a model for the Soul Artist who seeks to live their most meaningful life.
Because each new year brings hardship and breakthrough. In the span of 365, we traverse new territory. We win some. We lose some. Maybe we dive deep into the underworld for a "Dark Night of the Soul" experience. Maybe we mourn loss. We celebrate love. We illuminate shadows. Hardship and breakthrough provide opportunity for transformation. 
What about you? How have you changed through the winter?
Do you feel yourself ready, welcoming something new?

Today, I remember my favorite childhood Easter dress. I remember styling my hair and polishing my shoes and stepping into the church pew to hear the Sunday sermon.
There was excitement in the air.

After the service (and oh! the joyful singing) the children were ushered out into the warm and radiant sunshine for an egg hunt on the lawn. I was bigger then. I followed behind the smaller ones. Something new was stirring.

As I walked the perimeter of the church yard, I spotted a little nest nestled beneath a tree. It was crooked and disheveled as if it had fallen from the branches. But there were three tiny eggs inside. I sat down to get a closer look.

It was a Soul Artist moment.
On the soft cool ground, under the brilliant blast of the Easter sun, I had a new understanding about the cycles of change (samsara in Sanskrit). It is all happening. Seasons. Moons. Days. Years. Thoughts. Life.

Creation.
Preservation.
Dissolution.
And it is always coldest, darkest just before the dawn.

It was something like that, anyway, elusive and curiously peaceful as I sat awestruck with wonder beside that little broken nest. Birds sang everywhere above me. The breeze blew the style out of my curls. And the sun was there.

I let the littler ones look for the Easter eggs. I had already found mine.
Walking back to catch up with my mother I felt like I had grown. Like I had changed. 

​I wondered if she would recognize me.