The Mystery of Beginnings
As the bursting of spring comes closer, I am wondering about beginnings. Spring is the mark of new things, of beginnings, the time of birth.
And yet birth only marks a moment in a cycle that begins in the dark, the still silence of the unknown, the unseen, the formless. We meet our new sprouts, blossoms, and babies for the first time and name that moment the start of new life. But where did this wondrous manifestation come from?
Seeds planted long ago, held in the stillness of winter. The formless and unseen is ever creating the seen and formed. What seems like nothing is often the beginning of greatness.