What spring doesn’t tell us about change

It’s the season of renewal and rebirth, they say. Well, spring has come into my life this year with a bang. Change is the theme. It gets me thinking. Birth, rebirth: we have all gone through it. No exception. Most of us have wanted a metaphorical rebirth in one way or another. And we want it to go as smoothly as possible. Even painless, if possible. But is it even an option? A painless birth? A haggle-free rebirth?

We’ve been blessed with an unusually bright spring this year. And while I’ve been relishing the blooming season, I couldn’t help but contemplate the labours of change. For some of us, even making the decision that will shake the waters of our comfort is an arduous process. But the moment the decision is made, a wave of relief or uplift comes through. I take it as a good sign.

But what happens when things start becoming more complicated after that? After you’ve made the big decision and felt good about it? Does that make it the wrong one? Or did you simply not think it through enough?

I’m an overthinker. And a comfort seeker. I itch, I doubt, I spiral – sometimes all the way into anxiety – when the path ahead isn’t clear. I’m amid such a mess right now. I don’t doubt my decision, not for a second. But I keep finding hurdles along the way. And I’m thinking, trying to understand, gaping at people’s motives, losing faith in humanity, having a good cry, breathing in and out, calming down – and then all over again, circling in and out of despair and hope.

But I still don’t doubt my decision. That’s new.

So I try to lean into hope, to stay there for as long as I can, until things ease.

I guess what I’m getting at is this: our reaction matters. Change, rebirth – you name it – can appear effortless, almost beautiful. But perhaps in our hunt for what brings us joy and beauty, we have neglected the pain it carries. Maybe it’s not about a painless journey, but about finding ways to keep our desires strong, our inner fire burning, our minds steady in the midst of upheaval.

It sounds simple, but it isn’t. It takes time. And a lot of trial and error.

I hope the gusty winds of change will calm down soon. But even if they don’t, it’s my intention to find the beauty and light of spring anyway. Perhaps a bit unruly, less defined. Waking from winter, one long stretch at a time.