To Fold or not to Fold

The day we shipped our daughter back to snowy Vermont I got a note from a friend saying the crocuses were up on Bainbridge. I confess I felt a little guilty (people raised in the Presbyterian tradition seem to be VERY gifted in the guilt arena) knowing spring was almost here while she would be, like the groundhog, stuck in winter for many more weeks.

And then of course we got our late season snow, and all those poor crocuses were forced to fold in on themselves to wait out the cold. Which for some reason reminds me of a wonderful Rilke poem I read yesterday:

I want to unfold.
I don't want to stay folded anywhere,
because where I am folded,
there I am untrue.

And that, in turn, reminds me of the moment in my spirituality class on Tuesday when the leader noticed me sitting with my arms tightly folded across my chest, and said, "So! What's going on for you? What is that body language saying?"

Funny, how you don't notice these things when you're doing them. My arms were crossed because I was trying to keep something in that wanted to come out. So not all of us are eager to unfold. Blooming isn't always easy or fun -- and sometimes the snows come when you least expect it and you find yourself closing up again. But, oh, look at the color we can bring into the world when we finally open up!