Maybe it's growing up in the Northeast, when Spring is such a true awakening of the world, but every year I suffer from Spring Fever. Or, perhaps I should not say that I suffer so much as that my friends and family suffer through my bouts of Spring. There is something about the world coming awake that wakens a restlessness within me as well, creating a feeling that is almost feral in its intensity.
Spring Break, with all its implied celebration has passed by, and I have spent it dutifully cleaning my home, doing homework, taking care of a sick child, and all the myriad duties that are a part of my daily life. And so, as my week of semi-freedom draws to a close, I am left here, waiting for Spring to begin. Within my own body, the quickening of rushing waters and blooming flowers has begun. Time waits for no one, and as I am another year older, I feel the pull of the Vernal Equinox even more strongly than ever before.
I have read of Wiccan celebrations where participants rush out to dance naked in the moonlight, celebrating the earth. Today it sounds like a good idea. I would love to dance beneath the moonlight, naked as the day I came into this world, the dew wet grass crushing beneath my feet and the wind brushing against my aging skin. But then again, what would the neighbors think?
If I cannot dance naked in the moonlight, then let me dance clothed in the rain. To feel the cool spring rain on my skin, washing away the weight of the past year. To feel unfettered by convention, by walking without an umbrella, or even shoes. To laugh like my children, and stomp gaily through a puddle. Forget about the threat of acid rain - I want to catch raindrops on my tongue this Spring.
What is it about the Spring? What makes this the time of year when life seems to pulse within me? I am almost too much for my skin to contain. Like a caterpillar wriggling and about to split down the middle, shedding old skin, I wriggle and wait. What will my new skin be this year? Often I imagine I will reinvent myself like a caterpillar, find the butterfly within. But instead, I find that I shed my skin to reveal another skin just like the one before. Every stripe and hair is the same, and nothing has changed. And yet, come Spring, I feel the need to shed again. To wriggle, to dance naked under the moonlight, to howl and run and cavort. To dance in the rain.
