"Suffering is not holding you. You are holding suffering. When you become good at the art of letting sufferings go, then you'll come to realize how unnecessary it was for you to drag those burdens around with you. You'll see that no one else other than you was responsible. The truth is that existence wants your life to become a festival."
Spring brings with it renewed vigour, succour for the maligned heart and always, hope. The weather has been erratic but there have been days, even weeks, of glorious, honeyed sunshine. Spring's largess is the rebirth of colour after the grey starkness of the winter months.
Spring days are ones that are beautifully warm as you wake up. 'It's a T-shirt and skirt day', I decide, and throw in a flimsy cardi for good measure as I head out to the high street. A few hours later, the deception is done and I have foolishly fallen for it. The wind nips my nose. I shiver and cling on to the sorry excuse of a cardi and rush home freezing.
The evenings stave dusk away a little longer. The lightness is filtered with a prism of scents emanating from the garden, cajoling me to stop work and just be. The unfurling leaves and peeping flowers are a riotous medley. What have I done to be bequeathed days as beautiful as these?