Spring renewal and the wisdom of coming back to yourself.

Something quietly extraordinary happened just days ago. The spring equinox passed, and with it came a shift that is both astronomical fact and felt experience, the days are now officially longer than the nights. Light has reclaimed the majority of our hours. After months of early darkness and shortened afternoons, the world is tipping, slowly and irrevocably, back toward warmth.

I find myself pausing at this moment every year. Not just to notice the daffodils pushing through the soil or the particular quality of light at 7pm — that golden, disbelieving light but to ask: what does this season ask of me?

In Gestalt therapy, we talk often about contact the quality of our meeting with the world around us. Not just existing alongside life, but genuinely touching it. Letting it land. Spring is, perhaps, the most generous invitation the natural world extends to us to do exactly that.

The earth doesn’t ease tentatively into renewal. It commits. Bulbs that have been quietly, invisibly working underground since autumn suddenly break the surface with startling confidence. Trees that looked bare and finished just weeks ago begin to haze with green. There is a kind of radical presence in all of it no apology, no hesitation. Simply: here I am, again.

This is the gesture spring is offering us. A return to yourself. Not a new self, constructed from resolution and willpower, but the one that has always been there waiting, as bulbs wait, for the right conditions.