Life is not a toggle switch. Exempting trauma, accident, lightening strikes and the like, life seems to plod or race from one stage to another, but always with some sort of modulation. Though arrival at the next event is the goal, perhaps it is in the interim, the preparation, the transition, that life is experienced authentically.
Transition, by definition, is a change from one thing to the next, either in action or state of being. Transition in writing connects and relates. Transition, according to one source, “is awfully reassuring in its tidy reliance on regular forms.”
Transition may conclude or recover from what came before and turn focus and energies towards what is to come. In music, in labor, on birthdays and anniversaries, there may be pause, pain or celebration, but one moment leads to the next by way of transition.
Seasonal changes speak volumes without words. As I write this post, it is the Autumn Equinox 2019. Equinox. Equal night. The sun shines on the equator and the length of day and night are approximately the same. Balance.
Today did we turn off summer and turn on autumn? I think not. This morning I took a few pictures of my gardens, loving the richness of color and the integration of signs of autumn, fallen leaves among the remaining blooms. Nature defines transition by the juxtaposition of the good with the bad, the colorful with the bland, the new with the old.
In Vermont we love to enumerate more than four seasons. We need to do so to recognize all the transitions that are normal because they are not normal. When images of autumn fade: foliage, pumpkins, corn mazes, harvest dinners, there’s space before the Winter Solstice. Stick season. When snow melts and rivers overflow, before fragile signs of spring appear, we endure mud season. (well, actually there are usual several mud seasons throughout the year but we don’t like to acknowledge them) June, when we’d rather be thinking of weddings and camping trips, Vermont can be cold, windy and rainy. The only thing certain, is that the next season will arrive and that there will be undesignated space before it does so.
Seasons teach us life lessons. Letting go of the past and moving on can be heartbreaking or exhilarating. While we honor the past for joys and sorrows, skills to progress and experience to rely upon for future challenges, we recognize that each step has led us to where we are now. We are grateful for the textured fabric of existence that weaves a piece of great beauty. We are reminded to protect and to give back.
“One always has to know when a stage comes to an end. If we insist on staying longer than the necessary time, we lose the happiness and the meaning of the other stages we have to go through. Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters – whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that have finished.” Paulo Coelho
In transition we must let go, hover suspended in physical, mental and emotional space. Rather than trapped amidst paradoxical demands, life in the midst of transition allows for renewal, regeneration and balance. Like a dry sponge soaking up water we are made ready to move forward with energy, enthusiasm, positivity, expectancy and grace. We don’t want to jump ahead so quickly that we miss the experience of step-by-step transition. In fact, we don’t want to miss a thing.
“Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn, a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter. If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things, this is the best season of your life.” Wumen Huikai, “The Best Season”
