Seasons of Life

"The tiny seed know that in order to grow, it needed to be dropped in dirt, 

covered with darkness, and struggle to reach the light." - Sandra Kring

I have this vivid memory. It is early spring, and I am walking along the empty beach of Lake Michigan. I’ve rolled up my pants and in my hand are my shoes. The icy cold water rushes up to glide across my feet, and the sand beneath me sinks to embrace my toes, which by now are numb. The wind is blowing, and my hair is whipping across my face. It’s cold for spring time, and my hoodie barely keeps the cold air out. The fingers of winter can still be felt in the air and water, grasping for any form that it can lace itself around. The chill as warded off most everyone, and the surrounding beach is empty, save my parents and I. The sun, bright and high in the sky serves as nothing but a facade for this winter disguised as spring.

I often visit this memory. I come to it when I need peace and balance in life; when the hectic schedule of daily activity draws old and tiresome, and I need a quick escape. A meditative moment.

Through recent reflection, I’ve come to recognize my existence in life’s seasons, and how very necessary it is to slowly transition between one season and another.

Winter has been long a hard for me. This season has seemed to last forever, and quite frankly, it has. A seven year winter; one with a quick and abrupt transition. One moment it was fall, then BAM! I woke up to the dead of winter.

I seemed to have grown so used to the cold, so used to the quiet inside. I kept thoughts to myself, made “someday” plans, played “what if” games late at night. I fell into habitual routine that required no thought, no reflection, and little effort. After seven years of cold and silence and hibernation, I  can finally feel a cold spring.

It started with some sun; a ray of hope disguised as news I had never wished for, but somehow needed. It sparked some serious reflection and in turn, growth. That sliver of sun as fueling me to grow and develop into someone new and bright.

A new life season calls for new chances and opportunities. And it certainly deserves acknowledgement on a spiritual level.

My spring time will be time for me. Time to grow spiritually; to really develop my beliefs and practices. It will be a time to put into action the habits of my craft and spiritual work. To prepare for summer.

By summer, I want my actions to be habitual. I want meditation and craft-work to be a regular and reoccurring process. I want to have made positive and progressive steps in my life’s direction, so I can really solidify my spiritual self.

Fall will allow me to slow down the habitual processes, and give me room to try new craft-work. It will allow me find what works best for me, and perhaps find methods that are suited more for my life and goals.

Only then will I allow myself to drift back into winter. This time, not to sit in silence, but rather in reflection. I don’t want to fall into robotics and be “stuck” in winter again. I know winter is a very necessary part of life and growth, but it is not beneficial if one dwells in the cold too long. Just as I have to allow myself to drift into winter, I have to know how to drift out of it.