The Seasons We Carry
Change has often been compared to the seasons, and for good reason. Nature teaches us what it means to shift, to rest, to bloom, to let go. But what we don’t always notice is that we carry all the seasons within us—sometimes all in the same day.
There are mornings that feel like spring. Hopeful, fresh, full of possibility. A spark of energy returns, and the air around us seems to hum with beginnings. Then, there are summer afternoons, stretched wide with abundance—moments of laughter, warmth, and fullness that remind us how good it feels to be alive.
But inevitably, autumn arrives. Something asks to be released. A job, a belief, a version of ourselves that no longer fits. These are not easy changes, but they are necessary ones. The falling leaves remind us that letting go is not the end, but a preparation for what comes next.
And of course, winter has its place too. The stillness, the silence, the pause. It is tempting to see this season as emptiness, but winter is a deep kind of work—a quiet restoration we often overlook.
The truth is, change doesn’t move in a straight line. It circles, cycles, returns. We can be in the middle of a spring-like beginning while still carrying autumn’s grief. We can be basking in summer’s joy while winter waits patiently, reminding us that rest will be needed too.
This is what it means to be human: to hold all the seasons at once, to honor whichever one is asking for our attention in the moment.
Maybe today you feel yourself in bloom. Maybe you’re shedding. Maybe you’re waiting in the stillness, trusting that something unseen is taking root. Whatever season you’re in, know that it belongs. Each one is necessary. Each one has something to teach.
Change, like the seasons, is never final. It is always moving, always circling back, always reminding us that nothing is lost—only transformed.
So let’s carry the seasons gently, remembering that no matter where we stand, spring always comes again.