Ahh, the sweet, swift rabbit.
Welcome back.
How long has it been? Two months of quasi-hibernation? Three?
For some of us, it feels like a lifetime. But like always, you’ve returned with double the appetite and triple the stamina. And it’s not just you who’s undergone a transformation. Much has changed since you first crawled into your burrow for your annual winter slumber.
Back then, the world seemed so small. So still. But now you arrive at the first whisper of Spring to remind us that the world only exists in our eyes. We can make it as big or as small as we’d like.
F. Scott Fitzgerald might have said it first, but perhaps he too was inspired by the rabbit’s ability to wax and wane alongside the moon.
Speaking of the moon, I know you and the lunar goddess share quite the history.
You both revel in cyclical rebirth, duality, and fertility.
While your regenerative abilities are celebrated in lands near and far, you also know that fruitfulness of the land and body is just as crucial as that of the mind.
What seeds do we plant daily? Or weekly? Or during the dark moon, when we navigate the night without our trusty lantern.
Enchanting questions to some, daunting to others.
But you, dear rabbit, hardly fear the dark. In fact, dusk is one of your favorite times. To you, and likely some of your followers, there is something exhilarating about transition and how it shifts our perspective. After all, we can only rest in our burrow, our comfort zone, for so long until we start to wonder: what is it that we are waiting for?
A loaded question, yes. But an easy one to ask so long as we direct it at anyone besides ourselves. That doesn’t mean we should throw our plans out the window and leave fate in the hands of the gods, but rabbit, you show us that there is no time like the present. If the essay is finished, send it in. When the relationship is over, walk away. If the wind whispers of opportunity and suggests that the dream of all dreams is waiting—then go.
It’s the rabbit that shows us again and again that perfection does not exist, neither in the tangible or intangible worlds. That means nobody is flawless. Nor should we strive to be, lest we desire to spend our precious moments bound by comparison—the most tenacious thief of joy.
Perhaps the rabbit wastes no time engaged in self-doubt for one simple reason: life is fleeting. This is also one of the teachings of the wise crones, for they have the firmest grasp on the seemingly rigid, but actually quite flexible web of time. Like the grandmother who tugs, pulls, and weaves new life into a worn tapestry, the rabbit is driven by instinct. It’s this intuitive, feral nature that ties the rabbit to one reality while guaranteeing its invitation to another.
One last note from the rabbit: Steer away from people or situations that insist we must do and be everything in this lifetime. If this creature teaches us anything, it’s that the spirit evolves, and our purpose grows with each passing season. When we’re struggling to decide what we’re ‘supposed’ to be doing at any moment, all we need do is look to the rabbit—the cunning, untamed lover of all things elusive and ephemeral.
So, dear rabbit, I guess all this to say, thanks for the lessons, the wisdom, and the conversation.
Let’s meet up again soon.
Messages from the Rabbit:
What seeds, either literal or metaphorical, have you planted lately? Do you nurture these seeds out of responsibility, desire, or wonder?
When you see yourself getting caught up in little things that feel like big things, reconnect with the body by going barefoot and burying your hands in sand or soil.
How would you describe your relationship to curiosity? Do you consider a curious spirit to be an obstacle or a doorway to something greater?
Consider starting a moon journal where you record your daily activities, ideas, moods, energy levels, and compare them with the lunar phase. After a few months, start looking for patterns.
No matter the length of your to-do list, make time for play.
