The title of one of the greatest musical masterpieces of the 20th century comes to me as a ray of sunshine peeks through my window from behind the clouds, still frozen with the season. It's springtime, that in-between time when you get used to being hot-and-cold! Outside, the enthusiasm is there. The plants know that soon it will be a carnival of colors and scents. Inside, we're still intimidated by winter.
A TREASURE HUNT
For me, this is the most obvious metaphor for our inner transitions, when things that have remained unconscious for too long gradually emerge into our consciousness. Like the seed sown in the darkness of the earth, it will soon reveal itself in the light.
Immersed in my labyrinthine mind, I realize how many interpretations we place on the word "wound". Like the plague, it's a scary word. Instinctively, I want to run away from it. And yet... It's only a word. What have we put inside it to make us so afraid of it? Recently I realized what the word really means. There's nothing negative about our inner wounds : they're treasure hunts!
And so, the fallow land bears in the shadows what will soon make sense. Fruits, vegetables. Flowers, trees and all manner of plants. But before, it was just a hole, a small bitonium that didn't look like much.
The wound would be like a papyrus yet to be deciphered. An unknown equation. Not a problem to be solved, but a question posed to us. But the enigma lies not so much in the answer as in the real question. Within me, I'm certain that there are as many inner masters as there are human beings on the planet. Whether we know it or not, whether we use it for better or for worse, we are like a Stradivarius that is sometimes played, sometimes put back in its box.
Like the convolutions of a physical wound, those of the human psyche remind me of the twists and turns of a labyrinth that beckons us on our way. It doesn't matter how big or small, at the end we'll have a flowering that belongs to us alone. It's sometimes called a "revelation". It can't belong to anyone else. And yet it certainly connects with something universal.
Could it be that we are 8 billion small fingers following the pebbles left by our unconscious? Whether we call it unconscious, intuition or even Consciousness, this voice fortunately escapes our minds.
MAGIC IN THE AIR !
Spring inspires me because it reminds me of the magic of life! This blossoming into the visible of what was previously invisible is like an episode of Harry Potter where, with the wave of a magic wand, the treasure is discovered. That's why spring resembles those therapeutic processes when, isolated in winter, we realize that deep down in the earth everything was connected and well rooted, transforming what we took for manure into fertilizer and then into flowers.
Finally, I ask myself: are we ever anything but in-between? In the street, I watch busy passers-by going somewhere. But where to? If we don't know exactly where we've come from or where we're going, we can observe our path, our footsteps. By telling us whether they are lively, joyful, slow, staggering or sad, they tell us our truth: are we far from ourselves or very close? That, in fact, is our origin and destination.
GETTING CLOSER TO OURSELVES
And as in the story of spring's coronation, something dies to make way for spring. It's time to let go of the dead grass of winter and discover our true garden. And God knows it's taken seasons and rains to let go of what's dead and open up fully to life!
It's a sacred moment. This sacred spring!
Wishing you a liberating month of May,
From the bottom of my joy,
Hélène Tysman
