Springtime is the Mother Awakening.
All the world awakens from its winter sleep. Light is streaming into the world at its fastest pace, and all life rides this wave like a surfer on the ocean.
Spring is a time when new life is born, and thus also a time for creative destruction. Giving birth involves breaking things, and in mammals, it involves the spilling of blood. (One of the drawbacks of having a placenta.)
The Wiccan Rede says, "If It Harms None, Do What You Will." In discussions, it often has to be pointed out that "hurt" and "harm" are not necessarily the same. Things can hurt a great deal, and be for the best; likewise, things can feel great and do serious harm. (Likewise, "cure" and "heal" need not be the same, but that's another topic.)
In order to allow birth and growth to take place, one must often allow painful changes to take place. Birth is a struggle for the one being born. Always has been, always will. It's a time of sacrifice, of loss, and of pain. But to use an overworn phrase, "no pain, no gain". In making the sacrifice, you gain much. And indeed, since every newborn baby contains the universe in his or her head, in making the sacrifice, you gain a universe.
I was reminded of the boy I used to be, and how that boy can still be seen at times. For a moment, I felt sorrow, for the choices I had made, and which had closed off every other choice forever.
In making a choice, one always closes doors to other rooms. Beyond those rooms are other rooms, other hallways, and other buildings. Beyond those other buildings lie other yards in other towns in other worlds. Yet by choosing to go the way I did, all those other worlds are doomed to vanish, as they had never been at all.
In any change, there is a vision of what could have been. There are always those possibilities that are gone – not even dust to blow in the wind, for there is no wind in a world that never existed at all.
The lesson of the Mother is that the past is gone, and the choices behind the door we have opened have engulfed us like the contents of Fibber McGee's closet. Just as universes vanish when we shut the door on them, universes are born when we open their doors and call them into existence.
In Her mask of Isis, the Lady tells us, "Were I to turn My face from thee, thou wouldst cease to be." The world is reborn, conjured from the dust of yesterday, between every stroke of the clock, and every door we open leads to a new world. Abraham Lincoln is quoted as saying, "Everyone is about as happy as he makes up his mind to be." How happy you are depends a lot on where you're looking.
If you're finding yourself unhappy, maybe you need to look someplace else.