It’s Spring Cleaning time.
I’m speaking for myself, first off. The other day I used a barbeque & Trivial Pursuit party I was hostessing as a good excuse to give my room and bathroom the old once over. Except it was more like a twice or thrice over. I even ended up re-painting a nothing-colored dresser that had long sat sadly in the corner of my room begging for life.
I gave it pink—bright magenta pink—which shut it up real good.
The cleaning felt great; seeing such a tangible change was inspiring.
But that’s not the kind of cleaning I was really referring to.
Spring also brings about a different kind of cleaning: one that’s at once more subtle and more palpable. Spring, it seems, is a time for break-ups.
All around me, my friends are losing their honeys. Some of these relationships have been years in the making. Others have spanned a few precious months. But when it comes to breaking up, time spent together is not necessarily relative to pain experienced when it’s officially over. (Except it doesn’t seem to me that many relationships truly are officially over these days. It’s like getting back together is the new breaking up. But anyway…).
What is it about this time of year?
Is it really some kind of unconscious clearing out? I know it’s painful to think about it that way, especially for those who have felt the sting of an empty bed lately, but I can’t help but think the witnessing of Springtime rebirth all around can rub off on the humans a bit:
What needs re-seeding?
What’s longing to be pruned?
What is—beyond any doubt—dead?
I once broke up with a boyfriend around this time of year, but I think that actually had more to do with my birthday coming. Just like I once broke up with a boyfriend soon after my grandfather died. Just like I was once broken up with just before Christmas. I think events like this trigger an inner Gallup Poll that asks (and asks loudly), “Is this where I want to be in my life?” “Is this the person I want to be celebrating with now?”
My friend just told me about watching the full moon with her man last night and thinking how she’d watched the full moon on a previous occasion with somebody she felt less-than-thrilled about moon gazing with. The same thing happened to me before. I was on a date when the man said we should go for a drive and look at the moon, and I was so happy when driving circumstances prevented it from happening.
The voice inside me was screaming, “I don’t want to look at the moon with you!”
Or maybe it was, “I don’t want to look at the moon with you.”
And that date was a first and a last.
A full moon is nothing to be trifled with.
The moon, you see, should only be shared casually with coincidental bystanders, or passionately with good, good friends or the honey of your heart’s desire.
And when the full moon or the brilliance of Spring or a birthday or a major holiday comes around and the honey you’re with is not of your heart’s desire…well, that’s a tough day. That’s a real tough day for everybody involved.
I want to wish a personal rebirth to all those who are aching right now. I wish there were something I could do to make it feel better, but I know I can’t. A breakup without mourning could only come after a relationship that was insignificant to being with. I know yours were not of that category and so I hope your healing processes are thorough and—ultimately—refreshing.
Kahlil Gibran wrote, “when you experience sorrow, know that you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”
May you take this time for personal growth and, in the end, find someone with whom you can relax, someone who wants nothing more than to watch the moon with you.