The Light

581 total words    

2 minutes of reading

Ed. note—I met Kathy at the biannual Wild Things conference in Chicago following a talk I gave that provided an overview of the City Creatures project. She wondered if the City Creatures blog might include music inspired by human experiences with other animals, and I enthusiastically encouraged her to submit one of her songs with her interpretation of the lyrics. I’m happy to say that Kathy has submitted a delightful song to welcome spring after a long Chicago winter.

 

Click here to begin playing “The Light” (words and music by Kathy Greenholdt).

 

Look and see the light. Look and see the light.

Every year, after December 21, winter shifts, and each day becomes just a sliver longer than the one before it.

Push the winter’s night from your mind.

I don’t know about you, but during the darkest days of the year, I envy the furry animals I cannot see but know are hibernating . . . somewhere. How wonderful it would be to go to sleep for months, and dream deeply, then emerge from my napping place, well rested and greeted by the warm sun.

Wake up sleepyhead. Get out of the bed

where the bluebells rise from what was dead.

When spring arrives, you and I and all other living things on this planet become connected by the natural cycle of rebirth. But, we don’t feel connected unless we pay attention to each other.

Robin’s singin’. Trees are reachin’

out for you to dance.

We urban dwellers exist primarily in buildings with wonderful modern conveniences — food that comes from the grocery store, water that flows from a faucet, and computers that let us travel the globe without ever leaving our homes. But, when we stay inside too long, and cut ourselves off from the rest of the living world, we can begin to feel detached — as if something is missing, but we can’t put a finger on what exactly that might be.

Let the sun kiss all your sadness.

Take another chance.

When spring comes, we have an opportunity to step outside of our isolated little worlds and rediscover what it is that we need to make us feel whole again.

It’s cold in the dark. So, lift up the blinds.

Throw the window open to your mind.

We could, for example, take a walk to a neighborhood park to sit under a tree. We could close our eyes and listen to birds that have just returned from their faraway winter homes and squirrels that are chattering as they search for meals they buried last year.

The snow melts away and washes the grey,

to leave only colors in your heart.

While relaxing under that tree, we could then open our eyes and see the small butterflies, bees, tiny ants, and other insects that weren’t here just a few weeks ago. We could touch the soft grass as it is beginning to grow. We could inhale the fresh scent of flowers that only bloom this time of year.

Robin’s singin’. Trees are reachin’

out for you to dance.

And, all we need is this one moment in a park to witness the renewal that spring brings to the natural world. You and I are nature’s creatures ourselves, so we feel renewed, too.

This is the time of year when every living thing becomes more alive. It is also when some things that seemed dead surprise us by coming back to life.

Let the sun kiss all your sadness.

Take another chance.

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  • Kathy Greenholdt

    Kathy Greenholdt is a Chicago-based singer-songwriter, recording artist, and native plant gardener. She explores the spiritual essence of humans and nature in many of her songs. To listen to her music, visit www.KathyGreenholdt.com.

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