Celebrating the Ides of March
A Time to Refresh the Soul
Historically, the Ides of March denotes the date Julius Caesar left this world and the Roman Empire began. “Ides” comes from the Latin term meaning to divide, which might explain why the Ides fall mid-month, a time that is also often associated with the full moon. (The Ides has been known to be associated with the first full moon of a given month.)
The Ides of March, at one time, signified the beginning of the new year, a time employed in celebration and rejoicing. And to some, the Ides of March have become symbolic as a day of reckoning.
It is perhaps appropriate that we take pause this day, one year since our lives were upended by a mysterious virus we are only now beginning to comprehend. It is a time of pause, not only to consider the significance of the lives lost (today numbering over 534,000 in the U.S., and over 2,650,000 worldwide), but to consider the significance of our own lives and what difference we may make in the precious time that is left to us.
This is a day to press the symbolic reset button, to do some mindful accounting — not only financial but personal. Take stock of what you have in your well of resources. See whether you have the energy to move forward and energize others, or whether you need to take some time to fill your own well. Take a walk. Sit by the fireside with a favorite book. Bake bread. Reach out to someone you haven’t seen in a while. Write a letter. Dance in your kitchen. Sing a song.
March in Southern Appalachia is a time of greening, of planting, of renewed life. No matter that the month is half over; it is also still half here. We can celebrate the newness, letting all which no longer serves us blow away with that famous March lion’s wind. We can plant seeds, even if indoors in a flat, or in a pot that we set in the window to remind us that growth is still a constant. We can grab this time to march forth with fresh purpose, or if it is difficult to muster the energy just yet, we can simply march forth, the way we are right now.
The Ides of March is a month before tax date, and if we begin our accounting now (always wishful thinking on my part; perhaps I’ll even follow my own advice this year!), we’ll be much more relaxed on that inevitable day. If we pay just one bill a day or put one piece of our lives in order for the remainder of the month, we can enter the coming months with more ease than anguish. And perhaps the rhythm of settling our debts and our jumble one piece at a time will become a habit, to which we attach gentle pride.
For me, March is the month when the woods become alive, the first ramp of the season appearing boldly through the blanket of leaves that has nourished its pungent roots all winter; the three-leaved crinkleroot with its dark green surface and its deep purple back filling my mouth with pepperiness when I bite into its flesh; the first violets blossoming shyly and then in profusion, both heart-shaped leaves and flowers a welcome addition to salads, the winter cress gaining ground in my yet-to-be turned garden plot, feathery and spicy and perfect as a garnish, the spring beauties, ephemeral, delicate white with the finest of candy-red stripes.
There is hope in the air after the darkness of winter. Soon I will be able to hug my friends and family. For now my friends are the new growth in the woods and along the field’s edge, the reddening of the maples on the mountainside, the burst of yellow forsythia at the edge of the porch. All this and more I gather into my soul to fill my well on this Ides of March.
