“To see things in the seed, that is genius”

— Lao Tzu

There is an energy and hopefulness that goes with early spring. There is a color green that defies description because it isn’t just one color: it is all shades of green depending upon the light that shines through it. Yesterday I was sitting outside, looking up into the treetops—with their newly born leaves—a translucent pale green—and marveling at the leaves. The color green that’s not just green. But green plus light. Or green plus shadow. Or layers of these lights and shadows.

I began to think about how trees breathe in our carbon dioxide—the thing we breathe out—and as I looked up into the high grey branches of the huge Beech tree –with it’s small, emerging leaves I decided to intentionally breathe out to it—and then breathe in the fresh oxygen it was sending to me. I did this a few times when it occurred to me that I could do this and think of it almost as a game of catch. I would throw carbon dioxide up to its leaves and it would catch it, and then it would send oxygen back and I would catch it. This is perhaps the most fun I have had with a deep breathing exercise. Meditation and breathing exercises can seem so serious and austere. But playing catch—now that’s fun. If you can’t get outside—try a houseplant!

There is something about the green of spring that is so all encompassing. Where everything seems brand new. Where things are tender. Vulnerable. Unfolding. It’s not that these things aren’t happening during other parts of the year across the growing season—but in Spring it’s not a solo act, it’s a symphony. With each bit of growth and each bit of green playing their unique part so that the harmony surrounds you.

When I work with groups, I often have them begin using an old favorite introduction or check-in from my Girl Scout days: Rose-Thorn-Bud. You introduce yourself with your rose (something that going well, that’s in full bloom, that you are happy about or proud of); your thorn (something that’s hard right now, uncomfortable, not going well); and bud (something that’s new, that’s emerging, that is just appearing). Sitting outside yesterday looking at all that green reminded me of the introductions. Reminded me of how that question about the ‘bud’ is the one that most people find most difficult. They can usually find their rose and their thorn. But they struggle with what is new.

I don’t believe it’s because there aren’t new things in their lives but rather because our brains and sensory systems are overtrained to see a finished task or things in their full glory. We aren’t as good at seeing the tender shoots and we certainly aren’t as good at honoring or being excited about them. Spring has often been associated with the ritual of cleaning and getting rid of what is old. But Spring is also the time of year that can teach us best to see what is growing. What has just arrived. What is barely emerging.

What I know from my years of gardening is that new shoots need protection. They don’t like extremes of temperature or wind. They have particular needs. And they have their own timing. The new things that are beginning in our lives need much the same thing. Our new ability to listen and not interrupt. Or our new ability to slow down and be still. Our new ability to ask for help or do it ourselves. Our new ability to sit with ambiguity. To say no. To say yes. To say, ‘I don’t know.” Our new things need attention, protection, and more care than we usually give them. But they often need a different attention or care than we use on our more practiced abilities or our difficult habits. They need us to be softer, kinder and more patient. They wither under scrutiny or criticism. What you need to do with the tender shoots in your lives is what I did with my seedlings when I was growing flowers from seed: you need to greet them each morning with hopefulness and excitement. With a hearty welcome and a “I’m so glad you are here!” If you want to have roses in your life—then not only do you have to tolerate some thorns—you have to look on your seedlings with love and nurture them as best you can.