I had one of those moments of joy the other day when I heard, for the first time in the year 2000: "Chicago Cubs baseball is on the air!" When once I thought the new season would never roll around, here it is all of a sudden.

Well, at least the spring training part of it.

Actually, spring training isn’t quite like the real thing. Many of the players don’t know yet if they will make the team. Everyone is trying new techniques. Substitutions are made quite frequently. All of those involved are working on getting routines down for the real season.

It seems a worthy metaphor for this time of year. Out for a breakfast meeting this morning, I saw many people with ashes on their forehead, marking the beginning of the Lent season. The word Lent, as you may or may not know, comes from the old English lenten, which simply means spring. In the Christian calendar, it is known as a springtime for the soul. A preparation or cleansing for Easter. A type of training, if you will.

I suppose how we think of Lent (if we think of it at all) is dependent upon how we view Easter. Easter, in my Unitarian Universalist church, was a grand and glorious holiday celebrating the rebirth of life in the world around us, and within us. It is only in recent years, that I’ve given a lot more thought to what Lent means. Or can mean.

We live in a product driven society that urges us to participate in instant gratification, to spend without saving, to buy without earning. It persuades us that we can lose weight without dieting, urges us to medicate without addressing the underlying issues. And so on. It denies the hard work and the true process that life really is. It doesn’t focus on the benefits of self-discipline and introspection when this is how some of our greatest change occurs. It negates the fact that we have to give up things and let go in order for our lives to be transformed.

This, in a way, is what I think Lent is about. We have to make room, do some self-assessment, engage in some type of spiritual discipline to allow ourselves to be reborn.

This year, this season, then, I invite you to create some time for some spring training for your soul. Maybe greet the morning with a walk outdoors. Maybe find a book and read it slowly over the forty days, savoring its phrases and thoughts. Maybe try some yoga or prayer, or paint or dance, or otherwise encounter yourself in a new way. Just some suggestions. And if it doesn’t work, try something else.

We’re all in spring training this time of year. Full of eternal hope and wondrous imperfections and amazing possibilities. Experience it to the fullest.