There have been times since Imbolc, when I Knew, theoretically, that the waters flowed beneath the surface of the visible. There have been times, when I would hope for a sign of the flowing movement, where here in northern country, the ground froze deep below the snowpack. During these times, I would imagine the wet worlds moving with the life-force, but I could not see it. I could not even see the ground beneath my feet, much less the cheerful spring waters that bubble and cleanse. These have been invisible, even here, in my habitually very wet world.
Unlike me, the trees Did Know Spring was arriving. They responded to the rising light with swelling buds and flowing sap. The willows down in the valley began the transformation of turning their brown limbs to gold in the warming sun. The birds Did Know too. They sing their mating songs gleefully as they congregate, and the deer, who begin their migrations, Knew too.
Me? I continued to simply hold faith, that though the ground was hidden 3 feet below my feet, though the mornings dried the overnight ice, though the winds were bitter and cold, that somewhere, deep within, the waters were moving. And that somehow, sometime soon, we would see it with our own eyes too.
Then, 2 weeks ago, it all began to melt, flow, spread. The mysterious force of life, the carrier of light, pushed out and through, to reveal and transform. Since then, the meltings, the ice floes, the fog, the springs, the creeks, the streams, the rivers, the waterfalls, the clouds have burbled and bubbled with a stunning primal force. Everything wet has sprung, and transformed without pause. The Waters Have Returned, gloriously.
When my own senses, my own skin couldn't feel it, I knew to turn to my guides: the birds who knew; the winds who knew.; the trees who knew. I trust them.
Now, at last, the shift has happened - I hear, feel and see the moving waters which tumble below the snows, or rise up and out of the frozen. I hear and feel the creeks flowing, day, and night, and the dusk air full of moisture. A thickness moving the gloaming. I also hear the enhanced calls of the wild animals sharing their excitement of Spring. And all this change brings the gentlest of feelings. A calming, a trust.
During this period, there was one morning, when the unmistakable call came. We all know this sound. And when we hear it, we all turn to each other and say, "they're back!" And we look upward to see if we can see them too. This sound brings us to a full stop; a rare moment without urgency, we listen, pause, feel and breathe in, deeply. The activities of the planet all stop and pause with us, when the calls of the geese announce their return. Never do we tire of this gift.
This year, when the call came, I was walking in the woods, in the morning, and the sound stopped me mid-step. Looking up, I wondered, "How can such a simple sound signify so much meaning?" I whispered to the geese, that I could spy through the bare tree limbs, "Did you bring this Spring on your wings? when you flew overhead? Did the very beating of your wings initiate the change? and now Spring can burst forth?" "Did your ancient call open a portal that gave the signal to open the gates for these gifts?" I do not know. What I do know, is that the air shifted, my heart stilled, the wind gentled. I breathed in this miracle of life deeply. All rushing ceased. I arrived in a moment of no time.
In early March, I find, I can barely imagine new life, or the feel of springing steps in the soft mud that we mire through. And then, the geese call, and then life burgeons within; it all seems possible again. Now, like the geese who fly miles in companionship in simple faith, I too can gather my visions of community, trust and softness to remind me of the possibility of green fields ahead. I hold steady, in flight and in hope, for the dawning of the new day.

Happy Equinox Blessings