The Seasons Of My Life

Entering the winter of my life

I am struck more and more these days, as I continue on this path of aging, with how the metaphor of the seasons really does feel like it applies to my life.

Spring and youth. Blooming flowers. The hope of everything new. Beginnings. Sparkly colors, beautiful pastels. All lies ahead to be enjoyed and experienced and delighted by. So very much to look forward to. So much hope and anticipation. Plans made. Dreams born. 

Summer. Entering the full colors drenched in the sun and the warmth of life. Summer fun, play, full life living. Laughter. Careers, family, friends. All reflect fullness on every front. 

Autumn. Leaves begin to change. Their most brilliant colors take my breath away. And I notice that they become the most brilliant before they drop to the ground, dry and brown. Ready to be reabsorbed into the earth and the cycle of life. 

Winter. Colder temperatures and more call to go inside by the hearth. Fires burn internally. Houses look warmly lit , when looking through the windows, in contrast to the colder outdoors. We elders, like these houses, also have warmth, if someone looks into our windows, our eyes. Days are shorter, nights longer. More darkness prevails. 

There is a call to focus internally, more inside myself, as well. Memories flood through me of seasons past. Thoughts of life and all that I have experienced. Decisions made. Paths taken and those not chosen. Awareness that this is the final season, however long it may last. Awareness that spring, summer and fall are gone. 

My body reflects the winter. Everything going south, I say, and laugh. Yet there is truth to that in more ways than simply various parts of my body dropping.

 My thoughts and feelings seem to go deeper as well. They include more darkness, which I am learning to become more comfortable with. The increasing presence of loss and grief. Loss of others. Loss of parts of myself. I work to not let it frighten me. Well, not as much. Sometimes.

And my looking and seeing is slowed. I notice more around me than I used to, not having had as much time for this in the earlier seasons of my life. I see nature in all of its awe and beauty. I see the miracle of life in all of its forms every day. I stop and look and take it in. It can, and often does, bring me to tears. Tears of joy and gratitude. 

My joy is deeper, my appreciation so much richer. Perhaps because I am aware of the temporary nature of it all, aware of the fact that I have fewer miles ahead of me than those behind me. 

In my winter, I carry all the seasons that I have lived and loved. I feel them all. I hold them all. I remember and appreciate them all. I do, at times, miss the earlier seasons. I also try to stay present to be able to fully appreciate the season that I am now in. This final season. This most rich and poignant season. This winter of journeying within to find my soul and fire and Self. More deeply than ever before. 

And so, I embrace this winter season of my life. I sit quietly in it, looking and listening to what it has to teach me. Feeling all that it brings with it. Understanding that this is the final season, and perhaps can be the richest of all, if I have the courage to face it, feel it, and immerse myself in it. To fully live it while I am still here.