I’ve grown to love seasons. They are something I’ve known my entire life–something I always took for granted. The hot sun and the falling leaves and the whimsical snow and the new growth. I was so eager to move away from these seasons to hot and dry California that I hardly did any of my research before landing in San Francisco and realizing I would be cold for the next few years. The sun came out as it often did but the wind, the wind never died down. And each morning I’d wake up in this trance like state, unable to grasp or fully understand or even appreciate life’s seasons, for there were never any seasons. It was this perpetual state of recycled sun and never-ending wind, scrambling my thoughts and leaving me confused as to how to proceed.
Moving back here, here being a place of seasons, I’ve come to realize how much I love them. With each season comes a reset button, a chance to refocus and reprioritize. Seasons give me a timeline which gives me stability. Seasons allow me a time of rest, and therefore a time to also work really, really hard. They let me shift my focuses to certain things for certain durations of time, and also experiment with breaking out of molds and cyclical patterns in order to find new inspiration or new light.
Summer is coming to a close and already the morning’s feel cool. This next season is one where I put my head down and work through the fog and the rain and when suddenly the sun comes out again, life is going to be like it has never been before.