Seasons and Seasonings
Seasons and Seasonings
Of abundance, lack, hope, despair, and the cycles of it all
For this post, I highly recommend the audio I recorded (press play above) as I was better-able to articulate what I’ve written below. I’m not spending the time to go back through and edit my typed/written words, so there’s a bit missing below that I’ve spoken in the recording. Up to you, I know the recording is a bit long. Maybe take it in sessions/doses. Have some today and some tomorrow. Regardless, thank you for being here, I hope you’re getting what you came for. <3
Good morning from my part of the world. Where I woke to the setting full moon, and the glow of the horizon waking in the east. I began my day with “seasons” in mind. And as I went through the motions of preparing coffee — pouring, smelling, grinding, pouring, lighting, heating, waiting… pouring, pouring pouring, waiting… As the grounds and water rest together now — I find myself narrowing down many thoughts and feelings into words to share with you, dear reader.
(I say “dear reader” because, though I’d hopefully consider you all friends, it’s likely that we’ve never met or interacted directly in real life. Or likelier so, that you’re a dear member of my circle of friends and family who have been reading since the inception of this newsletter/blog/podcast internet post. Or you’re somewhere in between. So by saying “dear reader”, I hope you know that I mean you, that I hold you dear, and that I appreciate the time and attention you give to my work which, in this moment, is the work of writing and sharing my words).
As I narrow my thoughts into as few words as possible, I’d like to meander around the concept of Seasons, and the ever-changing-ness of it all.
I am feeling myself coming to the close looking at a season of abundance. Trees such as Oak and Pecan experience a phenomenon called “mast years”, where they produce an abundance of nuts which has rippling effects across many (all?) levels of the local ecosystem. The squirrels gather/store/plant more nuts, have more babies, and therefore produce more of their own young which further feeds the next level of the “food chain” in that area.
My abundance is a quieter, invisible abundance. My acorns are a bit less tangible, and a bit… harder to define.
So with that said, I want to consider the changing Seasons happening within us all as we go about our daily lives.
We may be experiencing the Seasons of Aging. Coming to terms with what it means to be this age, closer to one age, farther from another. The changes our body experiences due only to the passage of time. That is a big part of our lives that’s out of our control, that many may feel unprepared to cope with, and that (god willing) is what we’re all working towards: aging gracefully.
Our Season of Grief may be upon us. Grief, for me, tends to feel less like a season and more like a Grief Seasoning. A flavor in my life that I’ve known since I was very young. Since I was seven, I think, maybe eight. When my Grandpa Glen died. And then my Grandma Pat. My Great Grandparents. Or maybe my grief started before I was born, when my Uncle Jimmy died. And was emphasized following the deaths of classmates in high school and college. And patients as a nurse. And friends, family, loved ones in adulthood. Pets and plants. Grief comes in many forms, and tastes different to us all. Like the scent of lavender, the taste of coffee, the comfort in being alone with myself — it’s grown on me. When I talk about grief, I don’t see it as an inconvenience, something to “get through”, a feeling I’m waiting to pass. It is always part of me, and when I meet folks who know it, I stand witness, and I am witnessed.
Another Season to consider is our ever-changing skills and abilities. Some might say “strengths and weaknesses”. What about Seasons of Weight? Seasons of Carrying? (I’m not sure here). I’ll explain my meaning and see where that takes us.
What we “excelled in” as children may be completely different from how we channel our energies as adults. When I was in high school, I played flute and piccolo. I also dabbled in guitar. In adulthood, I have picked up my flute/piccolo a handful of times. Instead, I’ve spent more time honing my craft on guitar, harmonica, and lyric writing/speaking/singing. I still make music, and as my abilities change, so too will my creative expression. So I think I’d call this Seasons of Carrying. What we can carry, and what we must put down. What we can do, and what we must allow others to help us accomplish. There is so much we try to control, and we fight against nature, our abilities, our desires. And then, we must surrender that weight. Set it down, drop it, toss it over our shoulders.
The pain and suffering seems to come from pushing the wall and wondering why we keep getting pushed back (did I explain that the way I meant it?).
Seasons of Safety and Threat (can you think of another way to word this?). It’s a tough one to grapple with for me. Because, at this time, in my home and community, I am in a Season of (overall) safety. And, through the internet and conversations, I am aware of the abundant Threats near and far.
Are you following my meaning here?
We may find ourselves swinging slowly/quickly between Seasons of Abundance/Lack, Seasons of Joy/Sorrow, Seasons of Elation/Depression, Seasons of Hope/Worry — which may or may not balance each other out.
It’s a continual dance. We may be gathering, harvesting, sharing our bountiful crops.
We may have an opportunity to ask for help.
Others may notice our need for help before we do.
The story a bout the bikes is in the audio, if you jump ahead to the last 5 minutes.
And In Community, we find that we are not alone.
In community we find that we are not alone.
Whether we’re lacking, needing wanting. A conversation, a walk, dance, song, nod, eye contact, handholding, embracing, showing support, showing up, being in good company.
My hope for you today, wherever you find yourself in the world:
In all of life’s seasons, may you find yourself in good company.
In this day, and all your days, may your heart know the companionship of understanding. Knowing. Witnessing.
May you know the companionship of witnessing.
So that in our lightest and heaviest, darkest and lightest (delightful play on words). hope and sorrow, we are one. We are not alone.
We are not alone.
Here I am.
We are not alone.
Love,
Jessie
PS: Here’s a song for our day from the delightful Raye Zaragoza. Her music is gosh darned medicine.