Everything is in transition. All the time. We don’t always notice it, but sometimes, it is easy to see. Like in the autumn when the world visibly changes day by day right before our eyes. There never seems to be enough time then for all the things we want to do. There’s never as much time as we anticipated.
Yesterday, it was still summer – warm, vibrant and so abundant we kind of stopped even being aware of just how much so. And then suddenly, the light is dimming, the air is cooling and the trees are all but unclad. Tomorrow, it will be Christmas… and that’s kind of cosy. Something to look forward to, for sure. Yet how did it get here so fast when it was only yesterday we were sprawled on the beach and having late night barbeques with the neighbours in the backyard? Where did all that time go?
Then New Year’s comes around, and before we know of it we will be fed up with the January darkness and the February sleet. It will seem like it lasts forever, and like one day melts into the next without any visible sign of improvement or difference. That’s when it is hard to see the constant shift, and time seems almost too long to bear.
For as sedentary as we may seem, we yearn for that change. And we will move the world to create it during the times when it seems idle. We set out clocks back, and the throngs of people who before headed to the beach, now migrate to the tanning salons and the beauty product isles for light and fake tans … that is, if they don’t actually temporarily migrate south, like the birds, to where there is enough warmth and sunshine left to give the impression that summer didn’t leave.
So busy are we that we unwittingly deem ourselves to have overtaken transition and now need to wait months for it to catch up again. It becomes a void, rather than a time. An inconvenience, rather than a resource.
I looked at a flock of birds, merging into a perfect V-formation in the sky this morning, and felt drawn to go with them. To seek out warmer weather, lighter lands and new adventures, instead of just staying here and waiting… waiting for spring to return, for summer and flowers and new green leaves on the trees. And I realised that even before they have disappeared from view I too was already longing for the change that I can see… for the time that passes quickly and easily… comfortably. Anticipating what lies ahead. Forgetting what is here.
I couldn’t help but smile at that and think that perhaps it isn’t us who have overtaken and now must wait….