Life Has Its Seasons

Nothing lasts. No matter how hard we hold onto it, it always slides through our fingers and spills away. Even the very essence of our self eludes our own capture. The transient nature of our exsience is the heart of what makes us human. Being able to understand that transience is both a burden and a blessing. While it plagues us with fears for that which comes next, the knowing also gives us the oppurtunity to choose how we spend the limited allotments we are given.

When we are born, the seed of ourself is planted and we slowly set down the roots of our soul into the ground of our flesh. This Spring time is full of growth and a coming into life. We flourish. This is our time to learn what it is to be alive. We learn the world through exploration. Everything is our sensory experience.

With our coming adulthood there is a knowing and the spring of our life passes. We shake off our innocence and step into the greater world. The Summer brings for us a different kind of growth and bounty. This is a time for us to explore the larger world and the way in which we fit within it.

Time passes and our leaves turn to yellow. They fall away, taking little pieces of our history with them. We can only hope that someone takes note of their passing and carry a few of those leaves with them. We all recover from this fall in our own way; beginning the struggle that comes with the understanding that we will die. But before this, there is our decline and loss of youth.

When the winter snows come and cover us over, we know that our final season has come; for none of us are allowed a second spring. We envy the trees that. Our vibrancy has faded and world exploration is done. Now it is the time to strive to understand that which each of us carry within. It is time to face the unknowable.

After the winter, we are buried or burned and all that is left is the decay and the memories that others hold. The fragile colored leaves that we spread about us. Our mark fades and from us grows another generation. Another coming of Spring that we will never know and yet will remain as a small part of us. For the newly growing things always set their roots in the parting and decaying Winter losses.