Spring is a miracle.

All winter the ground looks lifeless — brown, white, or something in between. The trees are bare. Birds are gone. The garden shrinks into dormancy. Easy to believe nothing is happening.

But underneath, life is already preparing its return. Bulbs pressing slowly upward. Sap beginning to rise. The earth warms a few degrees and the cycle begins again.

I watch the harbor. The ice is disappearing. The water’s hue shifts from steel gray to deep blue — vibrating almost, as if warming from within. Which is exactly what it's doing. Which is exactly what we do. We aren't separate from it.

The heart works this way too. Even after a cold and isolating winter. Even after loss. Even after the moments when we’ve had to dig in and just endure. Given a little light, a little warmth, it begins to open up again. I feel it.

Love isn’t something we create. It’s something that keeps finding its way back — resilient, irrepressible. Even after the hardest winter. Maybe because of the hardest winter.

The heart keeps reaching for the light. The harbor knows.

— Pete​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Notes arrive on Sundays and some Wednesdays

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If these shorter notes resonate, The Practice is where I go deeper — longer essays on the same terrain. → here

About me, and Practice Notes → here
About Integrative Coaching → here
About my book, The Why of Sports → here