I ask my brothers can you hear the call of spring? So many go to their may pole early and think of fertility, lust, and the toils of the flesh, but March serves a deeper purpose. The name of the month even comes from the Roman God of War. It also states in a large clear purpose with its name, and the name alone speaks volumes. Soldiers march when the soil turns and the snow subsides. From March to October there are only the mercies of the campaign. Now we are not dependent on season. We have trained and equipped ourselves to the point were we can bring angry steel to the corners of the earth at any time or place.
My people of old took to sail or to horse. This was a time of raids. Cattle lay in fields of fresh green shoots, showing the signs they are ready to run fat with a calf. Sure there is time to think of the rabbit, the symbol of the fertile Goddess. The eggs hidden in hopes that their fertile symbolism was discovered by children, there by welcoming another child into the world. They sing to there own, and those children are the future of a people. They are our collective past. They are our hero's, role models and ancestors. Those generations of children born of spring dreams.
While those children ran through the fields, their fathers and some of their mothers marched through March to a different field. There were times they did not return to those fields to enjoy these sweet thoughts of spring that many focus on. This was a time many warriors kissed their last goodbyes to a lovers lips. Young boys dreamed of being men and took to the sword. Older men wise enough to know war went to the plow. It was a time of change. It was a time of life and life's end.
You can tell the measure of a man, and the years he has lived by how he looks to spring. Some are more measured to desire, and give to the throws of the flesh. Others give to logic and tend to their fields. Those measured few give to their will and look to their purpose. We do not all hear the warriors call. This does not lay one man above the other though. Some men make the beer, so others may drink. Some men grow the wheat, so that others can eat the bread. Some men look to the walls of other homes so that those left behind might think.
So what ever purpose spring brings to you, know your path and enjoy it. Understand the paths of other men, and do not focus to much on one path. So while you think about plowing a fertile pink field, don't forget those looking to work the rich black soil, or the red fields of memory. Answer your ancestors call. Take the path they ask you to take, and make sure you give thought to it when you honor them. Passing a plastic basket with plastic eggs, stuffed with candy, and that infamous ham. Oh that honey glazed ham, the wealth of a villager displayed for you to admire. It was the ancient equivalent of setting out your check for others to admire, then going one step further and giving your guest a signed check sharing your wealth.
All these things you do had purpose before. It was not so hollow as it is now. It had meaning and it can again as long as you understand the meaning they uses to have. Pick up a book. Study your history of your people. Connect to the past, and give your future cause and purpose. So march into March. Let spring be sprung, and look to a bright future. Carry your past into that future and honor the path that all your people choose. Guard, soldier, baker, farmer, or lover, we all have purpose. Understand the purpose we all have and find yours. To look forward you have to look back though, and not to the crap the consumer society is trying to spoon feed your fat ass.