Can We Be The Seeds of Emergence?

Reflections on the Spring Equinox as the World is Breaking and Shaking.

19 March 2025

On our midnight drive home following a raucous dance party, through the ridges and valleys of the Driftless, the natural world stirred with similar nocturnal wonder. A raccoon, eyes glinting in the full moonlight, scrambled from the hollow trunk of a Shagbark Hickory where it had wintered, departing its den now seeking the promise of spring. Along the roadsides, a clamor unfolded as more raccoons shuffled through the undergrowth; life, restless and awakening, coalescing once again. I wished them luck as they seemed bewildered by their new found freedom and energy.

The next morning, I noticed the neon bud scales of maple trees begun to unfurl like tiny lanterns, as red-winged blackbirds, their crimson marks flashing, sing as they cling to last season’s prairie grass. I thought to myself, the Snowdrops must be up. My dear and delicate sentinels of the thaw, close their petals up tightly against the chill and dance open when the sun is warm and persistent. This time of the year exactly.

My yearly pilgrimage to the snowdrop community began in March twenty-twenty when I happened upon the sanctuary where they dwell, nestled gently in the woodlands. I didn’t know it then, but this place would be a solace and a magic I’d return to again and again. We even ended up renting the home that borders the very woodlands three years later. Synchronicities. These delicate blooms are a symbols of hope and renewal, they break winter’s grip with their resilience, petals bowed in reverence, yet steadfast in their emergence through the thawing earth. They are the first to illuminate the threshold between seasons, reminding me that even the smallest beings know when it is time to rise.

In their fleeting bloom, I have found over the years a bright assurance that life, with its chaos, twists, and turns, returns, again and again. Their presence whispers of the cycles that move beyond urgency: of patience, grace, and the promise new beginnings hold. I kneel among them, under the caw of the crow, breathing in their gentle ephemeral wisdom. However brief, these sacred moments in their presence changes me each year, and takes root in my heart, a courage to bloom tall carrying me through the seasons that follow.

As the Spring Equinox approaches and the sun enters Aries, a fragile balance hums between light and shadow. The Earth and I seem to be holding our breath, sensing the tension of what is yet to come. The days lengthen, the air thickens with warmth, and the ground stirs from its slumber. Yet beneath this gentle waking, there is a tremor, a subtle quiver, a pulse beneath the surface. Something is shifting, breaking, and shaking loose in the world around us, as if the Earth itself is exhaling after a long, hard season. We stand at the threshold of uncertainty, hearts poised like seeds pressing against the soil, unsure of what will emerge from the cracks in the land and within ourselves. But this unknowing is the very heartbeat of renewal. What is breaking open now is what will become new again, if we can muster the courage…

Now is the time to plant seeds, not only in the Earth but in our spirits, in the land, and in the hearts of our communities. The seeds we choose to sow carry far more than the promise of food or flowers; they hold within them the power of transformation, resilience, and hope. Through the lens of Indigenous wisdom, seeds are the ancestors’ gift, tiny vessels of memory and possibility, a thread woven across time that binds us to the Earth, the sky, and to one another. We need each other. Each seed, a whisper from the past, reminding us that renewal is not only possible but inevitable. And so, we press them gently into the soil, trusting that what takes root will one day bloom, filling the cracks with life once more.

In the cycles of planting and harvesting, we are reminded of the sacred relationship we share with the land. Seeds are not mere objects; they are living, full of story, of memory, and of possibility. When we hold a seed in our hand, we are holding the future, the promise of life to come, of growth against the odds, of resilience in the face of change. In the teachings of many Indigenous cultures, seeds are treated with reverence, for they are seen as the carriers of wisdom passed down from generation to generation. They are the living breath of the Earth itself, a reflection of the interconnectedness of all beings.

But as we begin to sow, we are reminded that the world is breaking and shaking, and we don't yet know what will emerge. What will grow from the seeds we plant? What new forms of life, new ways of being, will rise from the soil? Can we summon the courage of our roots to continue on? This is the inherent beauty and the complete mystery of the present moment. In the spirit of the equinox, we are called to cultivate trust, not in certainty, but in our ability, in community, and the process. We do not know exactly what the future will hold, but we can find peace in the knowing that the earth, in all its wisdom, will guide us toward new beginnings.

Seeds are the very foundation of life, carrying within them the genetic diversity that sustains ecosystems, cultures, and communities. Yet, in today's world, seeds are under attack. They are being privatized, patented, and genetically modified by corporations that seek to control the food supply and profit from nature’s most sacred gift. As industrial agriculture spreads, the traditional, open-pollinated seeds, those that have been saved, exchanged, and cultivated by Indigenous and local communities for generations are disappearing. The diversity of crops that once thrived in harmony with the land is being replaced by monocultures that are vulnerable to pests, diseases, and climate change.

“it was spring insisting, insisting with its green airs.” - Octavio Paz

Last fall, as AJ and I drove along a stretch of rural country road, we noticed a car pulled over, hazard lights blinking in staccato against the dusk. An older gentleman sat behind the wheel, but it was the woman outside who caught my eye. A wise, silver-haired elder with a glimmer of knowing in her gaze. She stood at the edge of the prairie, gathering seeds from wildflowers and slipping them into her purse, as if tucking away treasure: fragments of the future. In that moment, I held my aspiration and inspiration: this is how we do it. A quiet, profound act of defiance reminding us that in the tiniest seed lies the potential for revolution, for sovereignty, for renewal. Saving seeds is an act of resistance, a powerful reclamation of life in a world that seeks to commodify it. To save and plant seeds is to honor the wisdom of our ancestors, to safeguard the resilience of ecosystems trembling under the weight of a shifting weather, and to defend the sacred right to cultivate food in harmony with the earth.

This Spring Equinox is a time to honor the teachings of the land, to listen deeply, and to approach the act of planting with reverence. Plant the kernels of wisdom you’ve gleaned, however small and unassuming, yet brimming with the knowing of what they are meant to become. Like seeds tucked gently into the soil, our truths carry within them the shape of possibility, the blueprint of what is yet to unfold. We scatter them softly, trusting the unseen work beneath the surface, where roots tangle with memory and dreams stretch upward toward the light. Can we trust that we, too, might know the way? That within us, there is an ancient remembering, a deep knowing of how to break open, how to root, how to rise? In community like the snowdrops? Our courage feeding off of each other’s resonance?

This is in itself is a ritual, an encouragement to trust what your heart knows in these times…

The shaking and breaking we feel in the world around us are not harbingers of destruction, but the birth pangs of creation in motion. Just as a seed must crack open to give rise to new life, so too are we being split wide; hearts, minds, and spirits, readying ourselves to emerge anew. The soil, rich and expectant, is ready to receive us. As we prepare to sow, how can we listen more fully to what it whispers? How can we plant not only with our hands, but with intention, love, and the understanding that we are not separate from our Earth? How can we hold in our hearts the ancient wisdom that tells us: what we plant today will feed tomorrow?

Let us plant with reverence. Let us scatter seeds with the knowledge that each one carries not just the promise of life, but a story, an echo of our ancestors, a prayer for the future. And as we press them into the soil, may we remember that we, too, are seeds. Held in the dark, waiting to emerge, ready to root ourselves in a world being made new. May we walk gently upon this land, remembering the sacredness of every seed, every sprout, and every bloom.

In this moment of shaking and breaking, may we trust that something beautiful is emerging. Even if we cannot yet see, there is a something that will rise in its own time, just as the seed becomes the plant, and the plant becomes the harvest.

Let us plant in co-creation.

Spring Equinox Blessings, Alyson.