Ostara

Here, nests and green shoots; where you are, what is breaking open?

The equinox is a doorway standing open. Day and night hold equal weight, and for one breath, the world is in balance. It will not stay—spring is already tipping toward summer, the light already winning. But here, now, for a moment: equilibrium.

The egg is Ostara’s symbol. Not because of fertility (though yes, that too) but because of potential. The egg contains everything and reveals nothing. It must crack to become what it is.

Practice

Find an egg. Hold it in your hands. Feel its weight, its smoothness, its strange perfection. Consider what is contained in that shell—everything necessary for life, waiting.

Ask yourself: what am I incubating? Then put the egg down. You don’t need to do anything with it. The asking is enough.

If you have a garden, this is planting time. If you don’t, plant something anyway—a pot on a windowsill, seeds in a cup of soil. Get your hands in dirt. Ostara lives in the contact between skin and earth.

Reflection

What in your life is perfectly balanced—and ready to tip? What shell needs cracking?

Notes

The hare is Ostara’s animal—not the domesticated rabbit, but the wild hare who boxes in the spring fields, drunk on the season. Hares do not burrow; they sleep in shallow depressions in the open ground, trusting their speed. There is a teaching there.