the song of the crocus

i want to believe that there is something poignant about drinking a beer called "la fin du monde" ("the end of the world") on this day, the first day of spring--the vernal equinox. right now, the world seems to be anything but in balance. we've been fighting a war in Iraq for 5 years now (the anniversary was on Tuesday); the protests of Tibetans against the Chinese government are provoking an imminent block-out of all westerners from the region as the Chinese "straighten up" the affair; the democratic battle for presidential candidacy is ironically (???) obscuring bush's shirking of responsibility for the state of the nation as we breach the highest price ever for both oil and grain and establish more and more "homeland security" by exporting the people who grow our food and importing food (note: using expensive oil-based transport) from other countries. but it's okay, because we're all going to get $300-$600 each to spend "right now" and temporarily stimulate the economy. in the meantime, we're shipping genetically modified corn (which is being grown instead of wheat, rye, barley, hops, vegetables, or anything else we can eat) to 3rd world countries so that they can plant it and grow patented hybrids (read: they can't save the seed because it won't grow again and if it does, they'll be sued by monsanto) that will deplete their soil and compete with native food sources so that they will become entirely dependent on U.S. companies for seed, fertilizer, and food assistance within the next five years, thereby rectifying our debts and waning dollar power in all the rest of the world. sigh.

somehow though, i also think it's poignant that i had this very experience a few days ago:

i was out to brunch with some friends and i ordered an omelet for my meal. when it arrived, i cut it in half and watched the fillings--artichokes, asparagus, proscuitto and cheese--reveal themselves. i noticed that one of the artichoke hearts had a curved, black line -like an eyelash- on it, so i poked at it (because i didn't want to eat it if it was an eyelash). the crescent line popped off of the artichoke and became a tiny down feather, and, without further provocation, it floated upward, past my face, past the light fixtures, and off into the heavens, defying gravity.

i still don't know what it means entirely, but i'm convinced that it has something to do with disregarding the social norms, the structures and order that we sense as law. we are bigger than it all. our balance comes from regarding the power that has been rooting within all of us, individually and collectively, and letting it bloom, despite the heavy hand that holds down. rise up! that's what spring has to say. who cares if you've been in 6 months of storms and snow and cold and hibernation, rise up anyway! it's in you to be true to yourself and create abundance for your community by just letting it all come through...