Seasonal Alignment - Spring
“In the midst of winter you can feel the inventions of Spring.”
— Durrell, Justine
What I gained from my myth work of Winter was clarity. I realized what was truly important to me, and what I needed to let go of in order to give those important things my full attention. The myth work of Spring—a season of emergence, reclaiming, and renewal—is about putting those insights into action.
While reflecting on Inanna’s death and resurrection in the underworld—the part of her story that resonates with Spring—I realized something new: empathic listening is one of the keys to her release.
Realizing that Inanna had not yet returned, the god Enki sent Kurgarra and Galatur to the realm of the dead to help her. They approached Ereshkigal, Queen of the Underworld and Inanna’s sister, not with demands or force, but with profound empathy. They held space for her, validating her pain and bearing witness to her suffering.
Moved by their compassion, Ereshkigal—who is usually left unseen and ignored—relinquishes Inanna’s body, allowing Inanna to resurrect.
There are two points in the myth where listening plays an essential role.
Inanna’s journey begins with intuitive listening. She attunes herself to a call beneath the surface of things, aligning with the part of herself that longs to go deeper. At the end, empathic listening secures her release and allows for her transformation.
In myth work, both forms of listening are essential. The first is inward listening—a turning toward our own depths. It allows us to honor the subtle stirrings within: our intuition, our longing for meaning, and our call to grow, even when the path is uncertain or frightening. This kind of listening draws us closer to the truth of who we are.
The second is outward listening—the kind that creates space for us and others to simply be. It allows us to move through what we must, while being held in the presence of others who do not try to fix or change us. It is witnessing without judgment, accompaniment without intrusion. In this listening, we are seen not for who we should be, but for who we truly are.
This second listening is important because it meets one of the most profound human needs: to be seen, heard, and accepted without judgment. In the context of myth work—and life—it creates a space where transformation becomes possible not through analysis or fixing, but through presence. This kind of listening allows us to move through experiences honestly and vulnerably, without the pressure to explain, justify, or change ourselves to make others more comfortable.
Here’s why it matters:
It slows us down - Growth and healing don’t happen on demand. This kind of listening respects our inner timing, letting us unfold at our own pace.
It breaks isolation – When someone listens without needing to solve our pain, we no longer feel alone in it. We are reminded that we can be held in our humanity without needing to be “better” to be worthy of love.
It allows authenticity – In a world full of roles and expectations, this kind of listening gives us permission to drop the mask. It says: You are enough, just as you are, right now.
It reflects our inner truth – Often, being truly heard helps us hear ourselves more clearly. In the silence and stillness of another’s presence, our own wisdom can surface.
It nurtures trust and depth – Whether in myth work or relationships, this kind of listening fosters safety, depth, and connection. It creates sacred ground where real transformation can take root.
In essence, the second listening reminds us that we are not projects to be completed, but stories to be witnessed—and that sometimes, simply being heard is the medicine we need.
So those are the insights I’m bringing with me into my myth work for Spring and these are the questions I’m asking myself:
- Where is more empathic listening needed in my life?
- What symbols or synchronicities are appearing as signs of renewal? How might I honor them as guidance?
- How can I support what is quietly unfolding, even if I don’t yet understand where it’s leading?
- What old story or heaviness am I ready to gently lay down, to make room for something new?
Spring, after all, is not just about blooming—it’s about choosing what to carry forward, and how to offer it back to the world.