Last weekend we celebrated Vanadis Day, the coming of the spring and the love that held us through the winter and the joy and beauty the world has to offer. Freyja’s beauty and passion and the hope for flowers.
This week the weather was so wonderful–so much better than last year’s historic snowfalls the week of Vanadis Day. It was 65 degrees and sunny and beautiful. I walked outside without a coat and drove with the window open. And I began to shed the baggage of winter.
Winter is so internal, a time of deep thoughts and just getting by. It is not a time of inspiration for me, except on those beautiful nights when the snow has fallen and the city is paved in the sparkling pearls of the sky, when all has been covered by that dangerous harmony of the snow.
But the blanket of the snow has now melted, and the warmth of spring has come begun to come and embrace us with her warmth. The sunlight has brought her dancing inspiration to me, and reminded me to hope for the daffodils that will be coming in only a few short weeks, marking spring as being really and truly here.
Philadelphia has the most beautiful spring I have ever seen. Almost all of the trees here are flowering trees, and the city explodes with these pink puffballs attached to the tops of treetrunks. We decorated our house for Vanadis Day and to celebrate the flowering trees.
And I’ve been inspired. It’s cold again, but the momentum has begun building and I don’t need to keep hunting for it. The spring cleaning of my life has begun.
This sudden shift in weather has been difficult. I’ve been having to deal with the things I don’t like–like Philly’s litter problem and how bored I am at my job. I think I’m a little sick from it all.
I’ve begun producing my own dance performance. It will be performed in the Fringe Festival this fall. A friend of mine from college and I are collaborating on the performance, which is going to be on the subject of water. And I’m so inspired I can’t sleep. All I can think of is ideas for how my collection of dances about the water cycle is going to go. I spent an entire day planning the musical choices for my ballet, and finding the poems to inspire each section. The dance is boiling inside me, and it can hardly wait until rehearsals start in May. The bubbles are beginning to come out in my soul, and the ideas are spewing out of me.
The fire of the sun and the dance have come out and reminded me of what I came to this city for, the career I seek for myself. I want to be a dancer and a choreographer, and the determination to do so has sprung up out of nowhere like this beautiful February weather and the soon-to-be daffodils. I am surprising myself.