Lions and Lambs
March, in Kansas, is that sweet mixture of rebirth, warmth, and hope. True, the weather can be rough at times (as weather does), but we also know and trust that it will finish its cycle like the year before, and the year before that. It’s said that ‘March comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb’, but if you happen to live in Kansas, the truer saying should be ‘March comes in like a lion, stays like a lion, and goes out like a lion, no apologies’. Winds and rain, freezing temperatures one day, shorts and t-shirts the next. It’s crazy sometimes.
And sometimes the crazy bleeds through. To be honest, I nearly forgot about my blog for this month, not because I’ve forgotten about you, my readers, but because my mind has been laden with other things. Things like recovering from a heart procedure (that is taking much longer than anticipated), pushing my vehicle to the finish line so she can be on the road again, and diving into writing my next novel while I wait in that limbo state between finishing one novel and waiting to hear back from literary agents I’ve submitted queries to. No, not forgotten, just lost in the shuffle of life.
One of the cards in shuffle right now is the thought of a new work, a new book with new characters mixed with ones familiar to me. So, while I’m playing limbo with the agencies, I’m following breadcrumbs back through the centuries. Exploring a world where miracles are real and power is determined by discernment. But it wouldn’t be my style unless there’s a thread to weave between it, The Witch, Margaret Barclay, and my Maleficia trilogy. As St. Patrick’s luck would have it, I’ve found that thread and I’m knitting it in seamlessly to ancient Roman history.
While writing The Witch, Margaret Barclay, I felt grounded. My literary feet had traction, momentum. Control. I was disciplined in my editing, weary through the polishing, the line edits, the striking of irrelevant words. Yet I kept returning to it, looking for and finding ways I could reword sentences or cut them completely. The fact is, I was looking for any means to NOT be finished with the manuscript, because while finishing something is a reward of its own, it’s also a precursor for something more nerve-wracking. The anti-gravity zone when the Word document is closed out for the last time, when queries have been sent to seemingly perfect-fit literary agents, and when a body is forced to wait. No control. No traction. This is where life sweeps in like a lion.
Nothing is certain, nothing is guaranteed. The only constant is the ticking of the clock. I’ve been battling heart issues for years, and the procedure I had, nothing ‘lights and siren’ EMERGENCY or the sort, should stabilize it for years to come, and I’m doing my part to help facilitate it. Things like shedding weight, eating healthier, and following doctor’s orders. That is hard for me. It feels like I’m walking into the wind, the constant March wind that comes in strong and cleanses the land of dust and debris. And I face that wind, not because I want to, but because I have to. We all have to. In this life, there will always be wind. Sometimes headwinds, others, tailwinds. We push through the former in order to enjoy the latter.
We’ve just passed the Ides of March, (et tu, Brute?) and pushing through the lion’s roar so that we can enjoy the spring equinox and prepare for the beaches of summer. It’s a balance. Life IS balance, when you look at it from afar. To and fro, give and take. You can find balance in all things.
And there’s a visceral relief in that balance.
As March gusts through, pushing hard into April showers, I shall forge ahead. We all will. Seasons change, but they don’t really, do they? They rotate. This for that. March has its winds, April has its showers, May has its flowers. (What do May flowers bring? Pilgrims!) We will do it all again next year, and the year after that. We persevere. And in between seasons, threaded through them all, wind and rain, snow and heat, life happens to us. Around us. Giving and taking away. The Mayflower rode the waves of adventure and discovery, and I intend to ride life’s waves, enjoying the highs and regretting the lows, but reveling in the balance of it until the waves crash against the shore and we all can rest.
