When T.S. Eliot recast Chaucer’s famous lines:
When April with his showers sweet with fruit
The drought of March has pierced unto the root
And bathed each vein with liquor that has power
To generate therein and sire the flower;
Then do folk long to go on pilgrimage, …
to start his own tale, he was headed on a strange pilgrimage indeed, scouring The Waste Land of early 20th century for meaning.
The month of April functions as the new year for many peoples and for many pursuits. Spring brings an enthusiasm for moving on to make new, not just in the lands where the four seasons are known, but also in equatorial lands where there are no major changes or in the tropics where the changes are harsh, extreme, amazing, exhilarating all at once.
For baseball fans, truly spring means Ball in Play Yet Again! For those in the USA that actually pay taxes, regardless of percentages, April is a cruel month for it mandates reviewing something that makes the world of human endeavor go round and the review is, inevitably, painful.
People who have met me know that I am a perpetual starter, beginner, always ready to take that 101 class or workshop to start fresh. . . . Many years ago, my spring was in the fall, August-September, the months when colleges re-started drove my motivation. I had the hardest time in the world adjusting to the corporate calendar, the June or October or even the end-of-the-year business cycle. But I love cultural new years and with our fluid background, we’ve always celebrated many calendars.
This time my celebration has been inspired by a few random things:
a daughter’s brave face on the reality of a performance artist finding financial stability : http://www.facebook.com/parijat.desai/posts/10150701328734934
a friend’s creative adaptation of an ancient Indian hymn into English http://asymptotejournal.com/article.php?cat=Poetry&id=81&curr_index=11&curPage=current
another friend’s statement of faith in me
one more of my repeated attempts to move ahead without rejecting all the years of my life: writing workshop!
So, in this early 21st century, I will reiterate Chaucer’s lines and feel glad that the drought of the previous periods has a chance to bring forth blooms and what pilgrimage is better than that?
Will you join my journey of Random Acts of Senseless Creativity?