You Can’t Fight Change—It’s Constant

Nature, if we look out the window, has much to teach us about living and dying. As the Earth rotates around the sun on its lopsided axis, spring gives way to summer, that leaps into fall, that glides into winter, and starts all over again.

Plants and animals innately know this cycle, and their behavior never fights the ebb and flow of seasons. They are the structure of life.

Humans know this cycle, too. Or have we forgotten?

As the days slowly grow longer and the barren ground releases the first daffodils, do we ever notice that change is constant? Do we see the sprouts releasing stems, leaves, and flowers? Do we notice the brevity of their existence and then the rebirth after falling dormant through summer, fall, and winter?

The oak tree of last summer grew taller, dropped its leaves, and now sports tiny buds. Those buds burst on the scene with leaves. It is still a tree, but not the tree of last summer.

Our lives are no different. Even before we are born, growth and change become the pattern of living, letting go, and always becoming.

Maybe this is why I love spring. I grow weary of the cold, dark days, bare trees, and frozen ground. I wait for red bud trees and daffodils to announce spring.

I long for the hope that arises with each new day. The hope that we can let go of what does not serve us, to grow and change, and see the interconnectedness that binds us to each other and this Earth we inhabit.

I checked this morning. The red buds had nothing to say—today.

Change is always coming

“I awoke today and found the frost perched on the town. It hovered in a frozen sky, then it gobbled summer down. When the sun turns traitor cold, and all the trees are shivering in a naked row, I get the urge for going, but I never seem to go.” ⏤Joni Mitchell