Patterns

The source of a choice

I love the changing seasons. Currently, in New England, late autumn sheds soft light as the angle of the sun shifts. Every year this happens. Years when I was not born. Years when homo sapiens were not yet walking this earth. The pattern will continue long after I walk this earth. That’s a projection, an assumption. Patterns continue, until something else happens. Something to disrupt the pattern. I love the children’s stories that imagine spring doesn’t come. People wait, wonder, anticipate, and they wait in fear that spring might not come this year. Even though spring has always come, there might be a time when spring doesn’t come. I have no control over the seasons. I can water a tree to help it bud. I can protect rosemary until the ground warms. I can not control the rain or the temperature. Just like everyone else on this earth, I wait for the pattern of seasons, sometimes with love, sometimes with fear. Like the seasons, love and fear can be expanded, expressed, in multiple forms. Yet, when distilled, they remain true to their source. Similar to the cycle of the seasons, the source of love and fear offers the power of change. The story, the one of fear that spring will not return, can be changed, altered, revised, to honor the source of wonder, anticipation, of love.