The First Snow of the Season.

The first snow of the season was two Sundays ago. I was excited to hear the forecast; excited for a change of scenery; to dig out my fur hats, leather gloves, and my green scarf. Looking forward to the heat being turned on in my house, the smooth transition from iced to hot coffee, the low hum from the fireplace that filled the silence while I read a book in my living room, curled up under a blanket. I did dread the snow boots, snow brushes, and snow tires that would accompany this change in weather. Nonetheless, I was welcoming the idea of something familiar and all that would come with it.

It only snowed for a few days and suddenly that fall feeling crept right back in. When I said I was excited for the change in seasons, I wasn’t aware of all the changes that would follow after that first snowfall. The funny thing about change is it’s the only real constant in our lives. The idea of change is often more gratifying than the period of uncertainty that precedes it. Change is something I look forward to, something I hope for, yet when it arrives at my house, I feel the urge to run and hide until someone lets me know whether or not it’s safe to open the door. It’s like loving the act of sending out the invitations to a party but dreading receiving RSVPs.

Winter is supposed to be a time we slow down, when the sun sets around 5pm, your body naturally leans towards some variant of hibernation. Staying in, finding comfort in your own company, resting before the next rebirth we call spring. It sounds like a beautiful break, truly, if it were ever to unfold that way. But life doesn’t unfold neatly like a napkin at a dinner table, with perfect creases showing us exactly where to go. Instead, it’s more like a sheet of paper, each fold leading in a new direction, branching and refolding in ways we can’t always predict. Life invites us to experience its surprises, not simply wait and anticipate them.

I really struggle with change, not because of the change itself, but because of the thought that it’s the wrong choice. How do you balance the scale in your mind between what’s best for you and what’s right? Is there even a right choice? This constant fear of making the wrong choice plagues my existence, clouding my mind and causing me to doubt my once-strong intuition. One choice can ruin your life; at the same time, one can give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Is it wrong to base your decisions on these obsessive compulsions? How do you silence the sounds of your own mind long enough to allow yourself to think clearly? Winter always springs these questions on me; perhaps it’s the rapidly approaching new year, or maybe just the solitude the snow tends to bring.

It hasn’t snowed in a week or so; once again, I find myself anticipating another change. Sitting around waiting for the snow, while the skies are clear and the sun is shining. I think this beautifully represents the struggle I am facing now. Noticing the beauty in front of you, even when the mind wanders toward the possibility of something more, allows you to appreciate what you already have. Embracing an abundant mindset overcomes the urge to seek fulfillment elsewhere. The seasons will change, time will pass, and the sun will rise and set in its rhythm. Rather than dwelling on inevitable changes, focusing on the present moment can strengthen your resolve and bring peace.

Affirmations and manifestations can be said a million and one ways, but until you believe in your words and in yourself, you’ll never see the change you desire. My fear of change is something I am actively working to overcome. At the same time, I’m more focused on stripping away the idea that there’s a right or wrong way to face change. In the meantime, I’ll try to experience more than I anticipate so that when a change does come, which it will, I’m ready to open the door rather than hide from the guests I invited.

It’s supposed to snow again on Thanksgiving; whether it does or does not, I’ll enjoy the sun while I have it here with me.

Cin Cin,

Paige Bulera