Springtime’s Guide to a Good Life

I spend the first two hours of most mornings reading and writing before getting ready for work. It’s a habit I started five years ago to stay hopeful when Covid lockdowns went into effect. Mostly, I read the memoirs of writers and spiritual leaders I admire. I read books about writing for business and writing for creative fulfillment. I get ideas for writing prompts and experimenting with writing techniques. I learn life lessons.

But on the last day of February, I chose instead to go for a walk. The sun was already up when I came down for my coffee sometime between 6 and 7am. I looked out the windows in my living room and saw an Easter egg-blue sky peeking through the bare branches of the Japanese Maple in the front yard. The sparrows were making a ruckus, and my weather app showed the temperature outside had already hit 40 degrees. After a dreary stretch of cold, windy, and wet weather, I couldn’t resist the urge to get outdoors.

The promise of spring beckoned. I decided to treat myself to a hearty breakfast at the Big Bear Cafe in the town square about a mile from my house in Dedham, a Boston suburb. It would be an indulgence compared to my usual yogurt, granola, and fruit concoction. The fresh air and food would be just what I needed to fill my well of positive energy.

I zipped into my black ski jacket and put on my go-to wool hat as I headed out the front door and down the porch steps. In the three months I’d been living in my neighborhood, I’d fallen into the habit of turning left on the sidewalk when I went out for walks; but this time, I headed right. It was time I explored.

On a whim, I turned onto a residential street I had never been on, my internal compass signaling it would lead me in the right direction. (It did.) Black-capped Chickadees, Cardinals, and House Sparrows serenaded me from the trees and rooftops of the neatly-kept homes I passed. At the end of the street, I discovered the neighborhood branch of the town library, noting how close it was to my house and that it would be a suitable place to work on remote office days. I read the plaque in front of the tiny, historic stone house I often drove by without a glance, learning it was almost 400 years old and the ancestral home of a US vice president. Inside the packed Big Bear Cafe, I felt a sense of community with my fellow breakfast-goers.

The vibe of renewal was palpable. Spring had sprung, if not on the calendar, in the hearts of the winter-weary dashing in and out of the cafe, their cars, and around the town square under a youthful yellow sun.

On my return trip, I warmed up enough to unzip my jacket. I pulled off my hat and stuffed it in my pocket. I soaked in the sun warming my scalp through my thick hair. Passing the high school, I saw students wearing shorts and hoodie sweatshirts. It brought me back to my kids’ high school years; triggered a pang of sympathy for the bewildered moms they undoubtedly brushed off on the way out the door. I spotted snowdrops poking out of the gray-white mush covering the garden beds and watched carefully for ice on the sidewalk.

Spring is such a tease, I mused.

Like a flirt, it keeps us on our toes, warming us up enough to shed layers of winter gear only to throw an ice patch on our path. Showing its bright side with a flash of blue sky one minute; then, “whoosh!” making an abrupt exit behind a heavy curtain of dark rain clouds.

Like life, spring is filled with promise and disappointment. Opportunities and obstacles. New beginnings and setbacks. Like the memoirs and self-help books I read most mornings, spring teaches valuable life lessons. I imagined what spring might say if it could write a ‘guide to a good life’:

Take the good with the bad and be deliberate in how you manage both. Draw hope from the good and channel the bad into a growth experience.

With every two steps forward, be ready to take one step back; but always keep going.

Be mindful. Stay alert and agile so you can recover quickly when you slip on the ice. Breaking a wrist is no fun.

Embrace the joy when it’s right in front of you, but don’t get too comfortable. Change is right around the corner.

Go outside and explore when the sun and sparrows call. You might learn something or come home with a writing prompt.