As I sit by my window in Calgary and stare down at the streets almost covered in snow, I wonder whether spring is really here. Seasonal snow and sun is enjoyable, but unseasonal ones are unwelcome... I long for the sunny skies and yellow landscape, which of course I would see in a week's time when I fly back home. But the spring chill in Canada is running down my spine.
Who decides the seasons? What counts as 'unseasonal'? Is it out of the 'established' cycles that we decide what is timely and what isn't? With changing seasons and rotation of the Earth it is suffice to both predict and expect certain seasonal changes. What about mind? Does the mind have seasons? Seasons of bloom, seasons of gloom...
I am mirthful, thinking of soaking in the sun, riding the back of horses of nostalgia and memory... But if I dwell into those for too long, it would be unseasonal. If I let myself wander off astray in day dreaming about life after I get married, and get constantly distracted; it might be untimely! What to expect, when to expect and how... are complicated strands of the skein of this mental seasonal cycle. Like others, I think it has to form its cycle through trial and errors, through wisdom of generations.
Just as the sea washes away old sandcastles on the beach, time clears the mental canvas for next painting to be portrayed. But like the sand and the sea, the mind and the apparatus is still the same. Just in a new season. A child becomes the father of a man, and a naïve girl wakes up to the realisation of the world.
The wisdom of elders arches over like a rainbow, akin to the doorway for initiation into the new season of self. At this juncture, we are all at the cusp of changing into a new season. I would be the wife, the daughter-in-law, sister-in -law from a friend, daughter and sister. Although the season would change, I would retain my old roles when I change through different settings. Much like the seasons! The trees are the same, with leaves and twigs - but they are green in Monsoon, yellow in Summer and fall off in Fall.
I welcome, the new season of me.
Who decides the seasons? What counts as 'unseasonal'? Is it out of the 'established' cycles that we decide what is timely and what isn't? With changing seasons and rotation of the Earth it is suffice to both predict and expect certain seasonal changes. What about mind? Does the mind have seasons? Seasons of bloom, seasons of gloom...
I am mirthful, thinking of soaking in the sun, riding the back of horses of nostalgia and memory... But if I dwell into those for too long, it would be unseasonal. If I let myself wander off astray in day dreaming about life after I get married, and get constantly distracted; it might be untimely! What to expect, when to expect and how... are complicated strands of the skein of this mental seasonal cycle. Like others, I think it has to form its cycle through trial and errors, through wisdom of generations.
Just as the sea washes away old sandcastles on the beach, time clears the mental canvas for next painting to be portrayed. But like the sand and the sea, the mind and the apparatus is still the same. Just in a new season. A child becomes the father of a man, and a naïve girl wakes up to the realisation of the world.
The wisdom of elders arches over like a rainbow, akin to the doorway for initiation into the new season of self. At this juncture, we are all at the cusp of changing into a new season. I would be the wife, the daughter-in-law, sister-in -law from a friend, daughter and sister. Although the season would change, I would retain my old roles when I change through different settings. Much like the seasons! The trees are the same, with leaves and twigs - but they are green in Monsoon, yellow in Summer and fall off in Fall.
I welcome, the new season of me.
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