Here’s something I find myself thinking about a lot lately:

Your life is not a singular, static experience.

Your life has seasons.

These seasons create a natural flow to your journey. They aren’t always obvious in the moment, but often become clear with the benefit of hindsight. Each one is unique, characterized by its own desires, priorities, purpose, and identity.

And, most importantly, the seasons do not repeat. You cannot relive past seasons, just as you cannot pull forward future seasons.

They are perhaps best envisioned as a river—flowing steadily, sometimes chaotic and turbulent, sometimes perfectly calm.

A few weeks ago, I stumbled across a quote from philosopher and writer George Santayana that I can’t stop thinking about…

There are some things you read that just feel like they’re echoing in your head. I kept repeating the quote over and over again. Turning the words over in my mind, then out loud.

To be hopelessly in love with spring…

To be interested in the changing seasons…

Reflecting on it, these are, broadly, the two paths we can choose in life. The path you choose will govern much of how you live. Your experience in this wild and crazy adventure we call life.

One is the path of attachment. Of a fixed mindset. Of nostalgia. Of regret.

One is a path of curiosity. Of a growth mindset. Of hope. Of wisdom.

I believe that the worst mistakes in life are made when we try to cling to a prior season that has already passed.

They’re made when we are hopelessly in love with spring.

And those mistakes are deceptively easy to make…

There’s a Russian saying, “The past is more unpredictable than the future.”

When we close our eyes and think about that spring, all we see is sunshine. When you think about the past, you forget (or at least glaze over) the struggle. This is mostly because it all worked out. You’re here today. You made it. You’re alive. You’re doing fine.

Author Morgan Housel ​once wrote​, “It’s hard to remember how you felt when you know how the story ends.”

Spring feels certain.

The new season feels like a leap of faith. An embrace of the unknown. A step into a future devoid of much of what brought you joy in the past.

So, we cling to the old and blind ourselves to the new.

But the river never stops flowing. As you fight with everything to swim against the current, you miss the beauty all around you.

You may long for the season of your youth. Of young love. The freedom of going wherever and doing whatever you want.

But in trying to cling to this season, what beauty might you miss?

• To grow old with the love of your life. To grow together and experience attraction in all its forms. To dance with your love at your children’s weddings. To experience the immense joy of being grandparents.
• To know your children as adults. To learn from your children as much as they have learned from you.
• To struggle and grow in new ways that you never anticipated.
• To feel the pain of loss, but through it be reminded of just how much you loved.

You see, the truth is that each season is beautiful in its own right. But not just because of its sunshine.

My grandmother once said, “Never fear sadness, as it tends to sit right next to love.”

The real beauty of life is found in the contrasts. It dances on a razor’s edge. Joys and sorrows. Pleasure and pain. Success and struggle.

That is life. The friction. The realness.

A perpetual spring offers none of that. It wasn’t as perfect as you remember it, and even if it were, you wouldn’t want perfection, because everything would fade to a dull, soulless shade of grey.

Let us all choose to be interested in the changing seasons.

To give in to the river. To smile as we float along, embracing its current, with all the good and bad that it brings.

Spring is wonderful, yes, but have you ever smelled the air after a summer rain? Or felt that rush of an autumn breeze? Or sat by the fire on a cold winter day?

Let us choose to fall in love with the seasons.