Weather for a Texas Girl

It's supposed to snow here today, March 21st, the first day of Spring. The snow is supposed to arrive about noon along with the turning of the seasons. In many places, snow on the first day of Spring just comes with the territory, but it's a bit unusual for us. Our trees have burst into bloom. Flowers color the beds with the yellows and purples that herald sunshine and warmer weather. We spent a beautiful day at the zoo yesterday, enjoying warmth and spring breezes. But this morning I am listening to a cold rain that has flooded already saturated soil overnight and anticipating the first flakes.

We think of the cycle of seasons in a rather linear fashion, Spring follows Winter follows Autumn follows Summer. Snow in the summer? Unheard of in Texas. One hundred degree days in December? Not what we normally anticipate. But Texas weather has a reputation of surprise and extreme changeability. Our cold spells are driven by fronts, so without a strong one a hundred degree December day isn't out of the question and with one, snow on the first day of Spring or killer cold snaps into April sometimes occur. May through August can be counted on to be hot, but we've had a rainy July or two where the sun barely showed up.

Life seems a bit like the weather in Texas. My expectation of some linear or predictably cyclical progress often ends up disrupted by some unexpected turn of events or my unexpected reaction to something or someone. Weather forecasters warn us of upcoming weather changes, but my internal weather often shifts without the benefit of any foreshadowing. Sitting with what is, honoring what my soul tells me I need today, instead of fighting the feelings with musts and shoulds isn't as easy as checking the forecast and dressing appropriately for the weather.

I've written lately about this feeling of hibernation, pulling inward, wanting to hole up, curl up, burrow and hide. It's Spring. I SHOULD be bursting into life. It's the end of my push for school. I SHOULD be ecstatic. I MUST be about looking for "what's next" and figuring out how to put all this education and experience to use. But I just want to curl up, pull the covers over my head, hide, and maybe cry for a while. I don't WANT to feel this way, but I do. I want to have an answer to the question - what's next? But I don't. There's been a lot of collaborative energy around life and Spring and worth these past few weeks in the blogosphere and I've been involved on the periphery of that energy. But I want to feel it in my bones and in my soul, and I don't.

I've lived in Texas all my life. The saying about the weather that everyone here knows goes: "If you don't like the weather in Texas - wait 5 minutes - it will change". Maybe that's true of my own interior weather too. Maybe the sun will come out tomorrow and illuminate a path I've yet to see, a direction I feel inspired to take. A poem that needs to be written. A chance I'm compelled to take. But for today, I think I'm just going to huddle up under a warm blanket and watch the snow fall.