The Sun Will Rise

Despite the cold, winter— with its cozy, slow days—feels the warmest to me. I love how it lingers into spring, stretching its inevitable departure. I’ve come to believe that changing seasons is nature’s way of teaching us how to let go, whether we’re ready or not.

In nature, shoulder season marks the time when one season begins to fade and another quietly emerges. For humans, shoulder season mirrors that same transition—a dance between suffering and healing. It’s a liminal space where ease and dis-ease push and pull, often leaving us stuck in the in-between.

Take heartbreak, for example. After a breakup, it’s easy to romanticize a former partner through rose-colored glasses, questioning if leaving was the right decision. But that questioning often acts as a defense against the deeper grief— the fear that “I’ll always be alone.” Embedded in that fear is the belief that aloneness is devoid of anything good or desirable. The same could be said of winter: dreary, cold, and depressing.

But Mother Nature doesn’t see it that way. Even on the darkest days, she offers proof that hope springs eternal. Our resistance to life’s natural flow does nothing to change what’s already unfolding. It only prolongs the feeling of being out in the cold, waiting for the first bloom.