My teacher said, "What happens in nature happens in us." And so we, too, are on the way to being new, or are emerging into newness again and again. What has been frozen does release its grip. Why? Because the unstoppable song of newness sings the cold away and sings the ice off of us.
The Celtic shamanic tradition tells us that right now the old woman of winter, who has a job to do, is getting sleepy after working hard all winter to clean the land of what needs to be taken to the other world. The exuberant maiden of spring, who has a job to do, is singing her song of newness, singing the flowers up out of the ground, singing with green breath the love of life into the land and creatures.
So the old woman and the young woman are dancing now. The swaying back and forth between ice and melt, between cold and warm air, sunshine and clouds - this is their dance. On it goes until the old woman gets sleepy and trudges up the hill to the well, takes a drink, and falls asleep. Perhaps the maiden escorts her and helps her lay gently down to sleep.
Some people say it's less a dance and more like an argument between mother and daughter. The daughter is saying, "Set me free from your old ways - they are a cruel, cold jail to me!" The old woman is saying (as mothers so often do), "You don't understand how the world is, it's cold and harsh and you'd better open your eyes, naive little snowflake!" And so the daughter has to sneak around and blow green breath on the land while the mother is napping. The old woman wakes from her nap and grudgingly has to set things "right" again, to save the world from all this naivete, grumbling about those who mess up the prevailing order.
On it goes, this dance, or this argument. The world, like the soul, like the heart, won't be stopped from becoming new again, no matter what. I like to keep this in mind. It helps.