Marcia's Musings: An Explosion of Color and Knowing
/By Marcia Appel — Last Updated: March 11, 2025
You know me. I don’t pull punches. I write from my heart. Sometimes, though, writers bow to suggestions. “Is Marcia okay?” someone asked a friend after my February Musings on overcoming internal darkness. So, I saved what will now appear in April and began again, a primary lesson of mindfulness.
As I pen this new March Musings, I am in Minnesota, preparing to leave for Isla Mujeres in Mexico for our five-day, women-only yoga retreat. (Sorry, guys. Well, actually, not that much.) Given that I have had my fair share of warmth this winter in the sunny South, you would think that a few days of cold (and blah brown) would not get to me. It does.
Our group oozed excitement the week or two before our trip. Emails flew back and forth among the retreatants, myself, and MB. Food choices and preferences, fashion needs (one swimsuit or three, dress up for dinner or down, what to wear on the plane), what kind of yoga, how to schedule spa treatments, what do you mean there’s a writing workshop? No wonder the energy flowed strong.
As I packed my luggage, it dawned on me that every piece of clothing going into it stood out for its colorful palette. A bright green swimsuit and a coral one. A multi-colored peplum blouse in riotous reds, oranges, purples, and pinks, those brilliant bursts punctuated by creams and blacks. A dress in solid goldenrod and one in a vibrant print plastered with tropical flowers. And in a second, those vibrant clothes formed one word in my mind: spring.
Suddenly, I could see beyond the drabness of the current season, that purgatory that hovers between winter and spring. Having lived in Minnesota most of my adult life, I know that the fickle weather at this time of the year teases with wide ranges of temperature, gale-force wind gusts, and the lingering threat of snow and ice. I didn’t let that stop me.
I went on a tear of springlike zeal: ordering seeds for my garden and flower beds, calling the landscaper for our clean-up date, wondering if it was too early to fill my pots with loamy, fertile soil and put out the furniture on the front porch.
I love to sit on that porch because it's like being in the center of an aviary - hummingbirds, robins, cardinals, blue jays, mourning doves, cackling crows, blue birds, and more create bursts of riotous colors and busyness as nests are built, baths are taken in the bird bath, and breakfast, lunch, and dinner are available 24/7 at our feeders. Sometimes I worry that the feeders will bend to the earth because so many feathered friends perch on them.
Down the road sits the Lakeville Green Lotus, its location selected because the original owners could either walk or bike there. I still can. I wondered if we could fill the pots outside the front door by the Ides of March (the fifteenth of the month), until saner voices (my gardening farmer parents) whispered to me from the beyond to get a grip.
In this frenzy of anticipation, I cleaned two closets, dropped off donations of outfits and household goods at second-hand stores and Goodwill, and deposited books in various neighborhood libraries, those charming architectural wonders that sit in the yards of book-loving friends. Looking forward to participation in Green Lotus’s Spring Detox program, an updated version of the one I created with MB years ago after I’d experienced it in my training with Baron Baptiste, I sorted herbal teas and anticipated the days of healthy eating, including my favorite – the “fruit fast” (thank goodness squash and tomatoes are fruits) – and wondered if I’d be asked to write some meditations for the daily updates. On the spot, I sat down and jotted some notes. No time like the present.
I needed to get my nails cleaned up before leaving for the retreat and decided to dress as though it were already spring. I put on my most colorful winter bottoms (red cords), top (an orange wool sweater), tennis shoes (pink), and a soft spring wool coat (summer white rather than winter white) for good measure. I slung a white handbag over my shoulder. When I walked into the nail salon, the conversation stopped as you can imagine, so shocked were the patrons by my spring getup in the dead of winter.
I began to pine for long bike rides, so I polished the new bike I purchased last year and had ridden on country roads out here 17 miles from my beloved Minneapolis and St. Paul. I dreamed of taking yoga classes four times a week in my new role at Green Lotus as founder emeritus and consultant to the community I love.
When I returned to Minnesota from our retreat, I scheduled a 90-minute hour upkeep session with esthetician Jamie Klein, who refreshed my eyelashes, eyebrows, and skin after days in the sun and sea and on the sand to reestablish a glow to my face. Walking out of her room, spring felt even closer.
I’m so ready for change. The truth is, we find ourselves in a pickle in our country and in the world at this moment. There is no way of predicting the outcomes. Knowing spring stands just around the corner helps to ease some of that stress, as does weaning off social media and hours of analysis (though I will be loyal to Minnesota Public Radio, where I was VP of marketing before starting Green Lotus, and where the dial – or whatever we call it now – is set in each car and in our home because we still listen to an actual radio. Hint: Don’t forget to save your local public radio station because they need us now more than ever).
As the color explodes on my body via my fashion choices, I feel my feistiness returning and my outlook improving from “can’t-do” to “can-do.” I feel myself slipping deeply into my essential rebellious nature, which requires daily visits to the internal island of refuge (learn about it in Yoga Nidra training and classes) and to my meditation cushion to retain perspective.
Because here is the truth: Spring promises more than soft, buttery light, warm breezes, and verdant gardens. It brings clarity, purpose, kindness, and joy, even as we become resolute in facing reality.
Soon I’ll be back in Minnesota for the summer. I am longing to see you when I sub for teachers eager for vacations and time with family and friends.
We’ll open the studio windows and doors, chafe when the lawn mowers buzz by during class and momentarily break our concentration, even as we celebrate the sweet smell of grass clippings wafting through the screens.
We will practice and grow strong inside and out.
In the practice, we’ll connect to spring’s kaleidoscope of color and find peace, calm, strength, and focus. We will know what to do. And we will do it.
