spring – Charlie Jordan's Website

January can be a bit bleak. Dark, cold & goes on for 100 days.

So when you catch a glimpse of ‘the first snowdrop’ in the garden, your soul might do a little happy dance as you trust that Spring will return again.

But then you look again, with your varifocal glasses on and it’s not the first snowdrop after all.

It’s a blob of white bird poo, nestling on the end of the snowdrop stem that is happily growing just by the gate.

The bulbs planted there so you can notice the first signs of this wonder of nature.

The wonder being the snowdrop bud, not the bird’s little gift!

Is this a sign of something deep & spiritual? Or just one of nature’s little ironies that can make you despair or laugh out loud.

It depends.

You see, we feed the birds. A lot. And friends & family buy us extra bird feeders as gifts.

So this January the ‘all you can eat buffet’ for our feathered friends expanded with even more cleverly designed hanging containers that swing near the bird table.

Not forgetting the bird bath, which has an old ridged frying pan wedged across it.

Sounds strange, but the teeny tiny birds enjoy the shallow puddles & lines of nibbles it offers them. We think of it as the ‘junior pool’ but don’t ask if they’re wearing verruca socks, as we had to for school swimming lessons!

No bird feeder has yet designed a way to swerve the Jackson Pollock style splashes that decorate the garden wherever the birds are.

So if you’re going to feed the birds, what goes in one end has to come out of the other. Pardon me if you’re eating your breakfast right now… but it’s just nature.

It was funny, realising I’d seen what I long for in January, a sign of Spring. I was willing the sunshine to return & buds to blossom, and trying to fast forward nature.

So that’s what nature does, it reminds you who is boss. Sometimes it’s not a flower, it’s a blob of bird poo.

But it’s also a sign of love. If we choose to look for it.

The love of friends & family who buy us the new bird feeders.

My partner’s love of feeding the birds that nudges him to buy regular supplies of all their favourite selections.

My love for how patiently he cleans & fills up their feeders, and scrubs the swing clear of unfortunate splashes, before we sit on it.

Our love of watching the birds, a habit cherished more since the Pandemic changes. Thuggish robins facing off mischievous blue tits & the occasional excitement of a goldfinch or goldcrest.

Or the thrill of spotting a woodpecker that looks like he’s wearing red pants on a black & white feathered frame.

Maybe that’s the solution, bird pants? From the same shop as the bird verruca socks!

My habit of getting things wrong is funny. As we get older it’s good to be able to laugh at our own foolishness & rubbish eyesight.

And yesterday as I walked past the pot & glanced down at the snowdrop bulbs, guess what?

Yes, another white blob.

This time, it really was our first snowdrop flower of 2022.

So next time you see something that isn’t quite what you’re hoping for, can you find a way to see Love in it? Even the process of trying that might make you giggle.

But also kept an eye out for any birds that might have just eaten too much from the buffet & are about to Jackson Pollock…

**If you’d like to know more or join one of the regular Mindfulness & Writing Zoom sessions I run, where we play with ideas like this, & chill out with relaxing & restoring meditations… message from the ‘Contact’ bit of this website. They are friendly groups where giggling & daydreaming are encouraged alongside the practically useful & more inspired stuff. No experience of Mindfulness or Writing are needed, and beginners & those more experienced are equally welcome. Happy snowdrop seeking meantime…

Photo with thanks to Yoksel at Unsplash.

As Winter gets ready to exit stage left, the last week of February brought a sneak preview of Spring. Sunshine. Warm enough to close the laptop & eat lunch in the garden while gazing at the first bees nuzzling the crocus flowers. Happily pegging washing on the line for the first time this year, as a ladybird landed, enchanted by my partner’s Star Wars socks. You’d love the films, I thought, while gently moving the tiny spotted one away from Chewbacca & onto the daffodils.

Bliss.

Rehearsing these Spring rituals of outdoor ‘firsts’ lifted the tail end of February. Particularly welcome, after a long winter lockdown that saw many of us weary and fed up. Longing to meet family & friends for lunch & hugs and all the many things we’ve missed for the last 12 months.

We can never be so sure of the ‘Lasts’ in life. Whether it’s smaller things like the last time we went to a cinema, gym, or hairdressers. Although a quick glance at my recent home haircut tells you it’s been far too long…

Or the bigger things, like the Last Time your youngest child wanted a bedtime story. Or the last time you held their bike seat until they could pedal off independently to freedom, leaving you trailing behind in the park. Or the Last Time you juggle ‘home schooling’ in lockdown. Something difficult & challenging now, but in years to come you might remember with fondness & even nostalgia.

Or the Last Time we got stuck in rush hour traffic heading to work, only to be made redundant. Or the Last Time we took our health for granted, before that hospital diagnosis that changed everything. Or the Last Time we saw a loved one. The minutiae of daily life that precede major life events acquire added significance.

First Times & Last Times, big & small mark all of our existence. As we’re nudging into Spring, ready to let go of Winter losses & restrictions, we try to focus on the optimism of the ‘First times’. Practising what Liz Gilbert describes as ‘stubborn gladness’; we can see clouds in the sky, but continue to tilt our heads towards glimpses of sunshine.

It doesn’t mean we’re ignoring the losses wrapped up in our ‘Last times’ list. By fully acknowledging the sadness of them, we eventually find an impetus to savour the details of these ‘ordinary’ moments that become extraordinary with hindsight.

David Kessler’s book about the 6th Stage of Grief notes how the vulnerabilities of loss can ultimately lead you to you find extra meaning in the everyday. Moving through intense pain & suffering heightens sensitivity, but can also attune you to appreciate the sweetness of a simple moment.

You may know this already. The loss of loved one highlights how precious other family & friends are, and you prioritise time to cherish them. Or a serious illness helps to shift priorities in your daily life. Following months in hospital, the gratitude of waking at home to greet another precious day, where just watching the cat yawn seems wonderful. Literally full of wonder, in our new state of gratitude.

All of us will have serious losses to deal with in our lives at some point, as well as the Pandemic experience, which has been likened to a form of bereavement. The loss of those everyday freedoms we took for granted, and to be with loved ones. As Winter fades away & we welcome Spring, let’s learn to trust in First Times again. Notice & appreciate them more than ever.

Celebrate with a toast to friendship & laughter when we return to a favourite cafe, or greet the Landlady with a bunch of tulips when back in the pub for a pint. Hold hands & hug for much longer than usual when we greet much loved family again. Savouring & supercharging all our senses. I’ll be overjoyed to feel the warmth from the oval Pyrex at the first roast dinner at the in-laws & hearing the mini avalanche crunch as the Vienetta is sliced will be glorious!

Let’s practice these rituals to relish the everyday throughout March. We’ve got a few more weeks at least, before we’re fully able to reconnect with loved ones or return to Hairdressers or cafes. But we can still notice & appreciate what each day brings us for now. That’s what Mindfulness helps with, staying in the moment and becoming aware of where we place our attention or focus. Like taking a Kodak Moment snapshot & tucking it close to your heart.

Rituals to relish the everyday, not always knowing when will be the First or Last Time, but appreciating this time. Now. Today. In this moment. This cup of tea. Or this bag of chocolate Mini Eggs. Don’t judge me, they were by the till when I did the shopping! The First bag of Mini Eggs this year has become something to celebrate & add to the list of Spring Rituals.

I think Einstein would’ve liked chocolate Mini Eggs. He once said ‘There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.’ Your choice, but I know which I prefer. The harshest losses may have dented my armour to teach me this, but I stumble forwards with stubborn gratitude.

Seeing the first bees and ladybirds & taking a moment to marvel at them. Which reminds me, I’d better get the washing in. A simple domestic task, but one I still relish after decades of living in flats, where washing dried indoors & underwear would stare at you from the radiator. Now I delight in the impromptu ballet of the duvet cover twirling in the breeze, or a tea towel tumbling into the birdbath.

So here’s to Spring. And us enjoying stretching our crumpled wings to gradually explore the world afresh. Like the ladybird & the Chewbacca socks. Perhaps I’ll show it the Star Wars films this year? That would be a First Time, for me and the Ladybird.

P.S. if you’d like to know more about this Mindfulness stuff, and join one of the regular sessions I run, just message me from the ‘Contact Charlie’ bit of www.charliejordan.co.uk There’s one coming up Sunday 7th March at 10.30am, or Monday 8th March at 7pm. You’ll have to bring your own chocolate eggs though, as they’re on Zoom…

Tag: spring

The first snowdrop. Or is it bird poo?

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