[Esther Leisher shares her contemplations on the mood of spring, and some of the ways she has shared this with her grandchildren.]
Here is the verse I was telling you about, the one that I remembered
again when my grandchildren were here.
The Sun gives light to the plants
Because the Sun loves the plants.
So one person gives soul light to others
When she loves them.
My grandchildren, who live in Australia where the light is diffused, found
the mornings here magical: "Grandma, the sun, the sun! It's touching the
tree tops." The sunlight here in the Southwest is clear and bright, and the
sunrise is like high, light music that fills the sky and soon touches the tops of
Each morning Zimri and Kai and I looked with awe. "The trees have
been waiting all night, dreaming their night dreams, waiting, waiting, waiting
for the beloved Sun. First they hear the music of the sunrise, listen, do you
hear it? (I sang a little, high, wordless song). Then the trees feel the touch of
the Sun. The Sun gives light to the trees because the Sun loves the trees."
--Those were the things the children wanted to hear each morning.
After a week of morning wonder, Zimri (4-1/2) made a little drama out of
it, a little game. He squatted behind a dining room chair as the Sun. I sat a
few feet away, my head bowed, my arms folded against my chest. I was a
tree. As the Sun came up (Zimri's face gradually rising from behind the chair)
the tree loosened and unfolded and raised its head and lifted its arms to the
Sun. (Think what fun that would be with a group of children as the trees.)
Having the children here revived in me an awareness, an inwardness
that I can now turn toward. Easter and the Spring Equinox are when the Earth
speaks and sings. Its thoughts and feelings are the plants that make their first
effort toward the Sun.
I can "think with" the Earth, give loving attention to the sprouting, growing, blossoming plants, and the unfolding buds of trees. The blade-like leaves of the daffodil pierce through the cold wet earth with pure strong intention--the will to express and give to the world radiant joy and a faint pure scent. The pussy willow bud is a tiny, soft blanket around baby leaves preparing to greet the world. The Spirit of the Willow tells me that it cherishes this time of year when it has soft fur like the nubby fur of a small animal.
Soul and spirit live in the delicate purity of springtime air, in the
new-born icy water of snow melt, in the gently increasing warmth, and the
power of growth and life. The mood of Earth at this special time becomes a
place for my heart to both rest and sing.
During my quiet time on Sunday I looked into the poetic little book The
Year Participated [Owen Barfield's translation of Rudolf Steiner's Calendar of the Soul] that speaks of the flooding light that pours into the soul and the certain Thinking of the World that focuses its mighty throng of rays toward the awakening of love in human hearts. The Sun loves the plants and so gives them light. The same quality expresses itself through us; we give soul-light to others when we love them.
As well as those inward adult activities, I also rediscovered Echoes of a
Dream [by Susan Smith] and made one of the songs into a verse, something
for me to say with or for children (though I do know adults who
also love these things):
In our garden there is a seed. We are the ones who put it there.
Who will help it now to grow? Earth and Sun and Rain and Air.
In our garden there is a flower. From a seed it came to birth.
Who helped it grow so bright and green? Air and Rain and Sun and Earth.
by Merwin Lewis
Still, I think the loveliest bit of the book is the song, "From earth a plant unfolds
to ripen in the sun: the echo of a dream, a blossom has begun."
Blessings on your Springtime and your Easter,