winter's last

Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
——T.S. Eliot

OK, I know what you're thinking, a post on the end of winter should go back before the beginning of spring. But think about it: Our calendars tell us when the first day of spring is. What is ignored is the last day of winter.

It's as if we're meant to forget the old as soon as we're presented with the new. And though we like the idea of a clean break, that's not how life is. Just because it's officially the first day of spring doesn't mean that it can't still snow. And the fact that it was winter didn't hide our eyes to the coming evidence of spring. She didn't just turn up on March 20. We saw her coming. We had a spell of warmer days. We had markers that a change was happening.

We loiter in winter while it is already spring.
—Henry David Thoreau

In life, there isn't a separation, a mark that says what came before is wholy separate from what comes after. Firsts and lasts overlap, beginnings and endings are mixed.

Last Wednesday, my friends filled my living room. And though they were around me, the winds of change were around me as well. It may have been spring's third day with winter officially retired, but in that room it felt like a crisp, knowing winter wind whirled around my head as I listened to their chatter. The chillness whispered to me. It said we were drifiting apart.

Where I once knew everything, had been a part of every event, I now more often hear about happenings after the fact. It's partly that I'm not around as much. It's partly that they aren't either. Before I was always available, as was Big-Bold-D and the G-man. But that was five years ago. Much has changed. But through all the changes, I was always on the inside. But it is the inside that is going out.

I'm not the only one feeling the ties loosening. Many of us are reaching out for something new. But for the new there is a sacrifice. To fully grasp the new, the hold on the old must be slackened.

New beginnings are not clean breaks from the past. The old coming to an end and the new gaining prominence is a slow progression. So slow that we don't realize the impact when it begins. So slow that we don't notice the subtle changes as it works in the background. So slow that, by the time you notice the power of the new, it has firm hold and it is too late to fully save the old. We're past the point of no return.

I'm not saying that it's the end of the old. In this case, I'm not saying that our friendships are over, but I am saying that they are fundamentally changing. Life isn't new or old. Life is changing. And it's not really changing from one definite thing to another definite thing. It's just changing constantly. I accept that. But I also recognize my power to guide my life's changes to an extent.

Through winter-time we call on spring,
And through the spring on summer call,
And when abounding hedges ring
Declare that winter's best of all;
And after that there'’s nothing good
Because the spring-time has not come....
—William Butler Yeats

So, here's to the old, the new and every beautiful moment in between.

ups and downs

What is life without it's ups and downs?

The down: The trauma of sending a freelance project to the printer with a tiny, tiny mistake (that just happened to be repeated on every page.

The up: The printer was sympathetic and cut my bill in half.

The down: In another printing incident, the photo credit was left off one of my articles from last month. (We rarely have photo credits, and this photographer is extremely picky about them.) So my editor is all upset. And I got to have a closed-door talk with my managing editor. And I'm all annoyed because I put the photo credit in the file above the photo captions because I didn't know which the art director would choose for the opening photo (where the photo credit would go). So, this guy's name is in the article. It just wasn't in the actual printing range. Ugh. And my review should be coming soon.

The up: ?

expensive medicine

So I have this habit of waking up at 3 a.m. The three main reasons: restless sleep, a brilliant idea or a forgotten thing remembered. I woke this morning with a start.

Crap. I didn't remember to change that. Is it too late?

First thing this morning (when those of you who know how to properly sleep through the night arrived at work), I found out that it was to late to be changed. The project would have to be redone. And to save face, the cost would be mine. (Shhh! It's a secret.)

So this morning I swallowed an expensive pill. Let's hope it's the last time I have take it. This pill is particularly bitter.

spring's first

Spring has sprung
the grass has ris'
I wonder where the birdies is

So the first day of spring has me thinking about another first, my first name and how it defines me. I don't really like being grouped with the girls named Summer or April. My name is more than that. My name is deeper than that. I'm more than that. I'm deeper than that. I know how petty this must seem, but what ever. I'm a petty person.

My mother's inspiration for my name: John 7:38

He who believes in Me [who cleaves to and trusts in and relies on Me] as the Scripture has said, From his innermost being shall flow [continuously] springs and rivers of living water.

This is how my mother wished me to be. Now, as an adult, who am I? How do I define myself? How much have I allowed myself and my identity to be bound by my name? By the meaning behind the word?

In an attempt to broaden Spring, I offer these definitions of my life as Spring (based from definitions of the word spring):

• I am in a perpetual season of growth.
• I am lively in spirit and movement.
  
• I am resilient when pushed, pulled or pressed and keep my original position or form.
• I move forward by leaps and bounds.
• I am a source, the beginning for ideas.
  
• I produce, disclose and develop suddenly and unexpectedly.
• I follow life and allow it to happen in the season appropriate for me.
• I am a bit warped, cracked and bent.
  

Maybe this seems a bit much to all of you. Maybe for you you're identity isn't entangled with your name. But mine has been. And in the end, it isn't the entanglement with my name that's become the problem. It's all the ideas and thoughts I hold about who I think Spring should be in the eyes of others.

As a child — and on occasion as an adult — I've wanted to be called by my middle name. It's a nice, normal, professional name. With a name like that, people wouldn't peg me as being a bit dingy right off the bat nor would they question it or make a comment about it. It'd just be a name, my name. And maybe then I wouldn't feel the pull to feed their expectations by acting dingy. Maybe I'd transform to fit my new name. Maybe, maybe but maybe not.

Maybe I just need to allow me to be me.

Happy first day of spring.

nano woe

I want to listen to the music on my iPod at work. But my Nanette is formatted for my Mac. I hesitate to reformat it for the PC just to use it at work (formatted this way, Nanette would still work with Macs, but perhaps not as well). And other options require buying software for a PC that's not mine or hacking the iPod (poor Nanette!). Grumble, grumble.

and the award goes to...

My magazine just won a national award for our enewsletters. It's our second year in a row.

People seem pleased, but not thrilled. It was expected. Which is a bit sad.

I love the thrill. Besides, without the feeling of competition or challenge, where is the impetus to improve?

thoroughly modern millie

I've been listening to the music from Thoroughly Modern Millie as I've been working on my enewsletters. It's so good.

I hadn't made it a priority to see the show in the past because I loved the original movie with Julie Andrews so much. I didn't think I'd want to watch a musical with new songs. But the songs are great. I'm dancing in my chair.

The show is coming to the Music Hall March 14 to 19. Anyone want to go with me?

word of the day: sudoku

Sudoku, noun. A logic puzzle in which numbers must be arranged in a grid such that no number is repeated in a row, column, or subsection of the grid.

For example, "The rapid and inexorable rise of Sudoku mirrors that of the great crossword craze of the 1920s and 1930s." (Source: National Review)

Note: Sudoku is sometimes also written Su Doku; it comes from Japanese elements meaning roughly "single number." Sudoku puzzles typically use the digits one through nine in a nine-by-nine grid having three-by-three subsections (called regions), but some versions use letters or colors, or differently sized grids and regions.

This entry comes via Copy Editor. My thanks to the publication for it's back page with the latest additions to the Oxford English Dictionary.

And for those of you who didn't know, I love Sudoku. And for proof, here's my first post on the game.