When I look out into my garden, I feel a lot of sympathy with my plants. In most of the Northern Hemisphere, nearly everything is dormant, resting and waiting. A lot of it is even growing roots, some slowly, some surprisingly quickly. When we have a week like this one, I imagine my plants are just desperate to peek out and feel sun and sky. To grow. Colorado tends to be all over the place, weather-wise. If you study geology & meteorology it’s because of the mountains. Different kinds of weather roll down the peaks just like water does, so we have weather coming and going rather quickly around here. If you think a different way, well, the Gods of Weather get a big box of weather delivered each day, and they parcel it out to each area. At the end there’s 5 minutes of rain, a handful of snow, a few cups of wind, a pinch of sun… That all gets mixed and dropped on Colorado; especially the part right along the foothills.
Even without mountains, though, somewhere around the final week of January or the first week of February there’s a warm week or so. A thaw that makes you think spring. A time that has been known for centuries as a standard part of winter. It’s the thaw that makes groundhogs peek out to see what kind of weather it is, and if the warm week is right around the 2nd, we’ll probably have more snow after. If it’s finished by the 2nd and back to being snowy, maybe it’ll be done sooner. It’s the thaw that makes people impatient to see growth.
I don’t know what day or time to look for any indications of growth for me, but I wish I did. I, too, am waiting to push through, to leaf out and grow taller. I can actually label some of my growing roots. The physician who wants to send some clients my way, but wants to meet first so we’re on the same page… and just had to reschedule. The organization that I was supposed to meet with on Wednesday who also had to reschedule. A group I’m running that’s in the ‘struggling to get a good day and time worked out’ phase. A phase that was not helped at all by last week’s weather, which was the kind of snow that made everyone want to stay home and warm, and which made me hope no one did come to group, because I worried about them on the roads. I’m betting there are other roots, too, that I can’t see clearly but are growing all the same.
Lots of roots growing, and I itch to put out shoots, leaves, even flowers. I don’t know if other therapists feel this way (although I hope they do), but I didn’t choose this for a lot of benefits – it’s not that kind of calling. I chose it, or it chose me, because I need to be there for people. To listen, to walk with them on their journeys, to sit with them when they cry, to laugh with them when they laugh. To explain things in a new way. To teach ways to cope, to express, to grow. I want to see more clients, work with more groups, go to more retreats or lead more workshops.
Right now, I don’t feel like I’m doing much of that. I know that a good root system is essential to have strong growth. But just like my garden, I’m waiting for warmth to coax me out into growth. I hope I don’t see my shadow next Monday, so that my own spring gets here faster. I’m ready for more leaves.