In traversing the Spring Equinox (at least here in the Northern Hemisphere), we’ve ushered in what is, in my experience, a most special time of year.
With more green in the landscape, more blooms, more birdsong and more daylight, there’s a sense of abundance and ascent. In DC, the famous cherry blossoms have reached their apex.
Peak conditions, if you will.
This spirit of renewal pervades the many holidays and festivals of spring, for example Nowruz (the Iranian or Persian New Year) and Holi (the Hindu festival of colors), and of course we’re now concluding the month of Ramadan as well (Eid Mubarak to all who celebrate!).
On the one hand, it seems cognitively dissonant to speak of the plenitude and promise of spring in the midst of all that’s unfolding in this country (and the world).
But maybe this is exactly the moment we’ve been waiting for…
Chicago inspiration
I thought about this while spending some time for work last week in Chicago, where I participated in the 69th annual conference of the Comparative & International Education Society (CIES).
Given the decimation of our field brought on by the Trump administration’s dismantling of USAID and its ripple effects, it was a very different conference than in years prior.
However, being amongst my fellow internationalists and humanists felt like a warm hug.
There was a sense of we’re-all-in-this-together and lots of conversations about where we go from here and what “phoenix” can possibly rise from the ashes in our midst. There are no easy answers to these questions, but for me CIES was a moment of hope. A needed reminder of the solidarity, fortitude and conviction that underpin our work as internationalists and humanists.
On a related note: In case you missed it, please check out my last piece - a meditation on our shared humanity.
But before the conference started, I decided to indulge in some literary (and other) delights that also filled my cup.
On the recommendation of my friend Brian, I visited the American Writers Museum in downtown Chicago. I loved the ‘American Voices’ exhibit dedicated to notable American writers over 400 years of history and the ‘Mind of A Writer’ installation about the craft of writing, while the ‘Word Waterfall’ offering writer perspectives on the meaning of America was powerfully à propos. All in all, a highly recommended spot.
I also went to the Art Institute of Chicago, one of my favorite museums in the world. The highlight for me was the famous “America Windows” by Mark Chagall, a set of stained glass panels painted by the artist to commemorate the country’s bicentennial in 1976. In the current climate of obscurity, I found the Chagall Windows to be profoundly hopeful: colorful, compelling and full of light.
Also on my Chicago agenda was a visit to the Poetry Foundation, which publishes Poetry Magazine and maintains an extensive poetry library (the largest in the Midwest). I spent some time reading favorites like Nikki Giovanni and Lucille Clifton, as well as some new discoveries whose work has been published in Poetry.
The visit was timely, given that March 21 was World Poetry Day and April is National Poetry Month in the U.S. The abundance of poetry and the many ways in which it serves us in reading (and writing) the world — even or perhaps especially when it doesn’t make sense — is always a source of inspiration.
“…you cannot keep Spring from coming.”
Back in DC, spring has been a graceful parade.
First, the crocuses gave way weeks ago to the daffodils, which took a backseat to the explosion of the magnolias whose petals now carpet our sidewalks.
All the attention then shifted to the magnificent Yoshino cherry blossoms, gifted to us by the people of Japan all the way back in 1912 and now in their short window of peak bloom. I’ve lived in Washington off and on for many years, but this particular glory never gets old.
Maybe that’s especially the case this year. I’m reminded here of the words of Pablo Neruda:
“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.”
We too can rise
It’s especially poignant given the administration’s relentless targeting of our city. The latest stunt on that front is Trump’s Executive Order to “Beautify DC,” which is essentially about stepping up arrests of undocumented people, ramping up law enforcement and making it easier to carry concealed weapons. I have no idea what any of this has to do with beauty.
But as our At-Large DC Councilmember Robert White reminded us on his Instagram:
“This city is already beautiful because of you — the people, the culture, the history rooted deep in every block. So when an executive order talks about ‘beautifying’ D.C., know that it doesn’t just miss the mark — it dishonors what already is.”
I thought about this a lot on Saturday, when we headed down to the National Mall to celebrate the Blossom Kite Festival, a cherished tradition of spring.
It was a partly cloudy and unseasonably warm (almost hot) day. We brought a picnic, gathered with friends, drank rosé, enjoyed sunshine on bare legs and unfurled our kites.
As they took to the skies, I was reminded that we too can ascend. We too can rise.
And while it may seem disparate and muted, it’s happening all around us, in ways big and small. A crucial moment of course was Senator Cory Booker of New Jersey’s heroic feat, marked at 7:19pm ET yesterday: he broke the record for the longest speech on the Senate floor, as an act of protest against the Trump administration.
Given that our legislative branch and Democrats in general have largely been muted since the onset of this nightmare, it was a galvanizing and maybe…just maybe…game-changing moment.
Only time will tell, but his opening words rang like a premonition:
“I rise with the intention of disrupting the normal business of the United States Senate for as long as I am physically able. I rise tonight because I believe sincerely that our country is in crisis.”
And then, 25 hours and 5 minutes later, his closing remarks bellowed like a rallying cry:
"For all Americans it's a moral moment. It's not left or right. It's right or wrong."
Maybe the cry is finally being heard. The Democratic-backed candidate Susan Crawford won a crucial Wisconsin Supreme Court seat last night, defeating the Trumpian challenger who was backed with more than $20 million from bro-in-chief Elon Musk. Given that this was the first election in a battleground state since the beginning of Trump 2.0, this seems…significant.
But ultimately of course, it’s up to each of us. Senator Booker reminded us of this in recalling the call of the late congressman and civil rights icon John Lewis: “Do something.”
In that spirit, I’ll close by highlighting that demonstrations are planned around the U.S. on Saturday, April 5 (I’ll be joining the big rally in DC), organized by 50501, Indivisible, Hands Off, and Women’s March as a National Day of Action. We’ll be marching for our city, for our country, for our world.
And after all, what better time to do so than the spring?
More than any other time of year, this moment gives us peak conditions, reminding us that even after the darkest of winters, there is always a rebirth and the possibility of rebuilding anew. Just like the equinox ushers in the season of abundance and ascent, so too may it spur us: forward, onward and upward.
This resurrection,
Yours, mine, ours, flowers and fire,
We rise after all.
- Ramya Vivekanandan
This is exactly what I needed to read! Thank you for uplifting! Love the quote: you can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming! Please let that be true.
What a wonderful, uplifting piece! In art and words and community and flowers will we find a path forward. 🌸