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seasons were enough.

what if the seasons were enough? enough reason for a soul to come down. what if the only reason you decided it was worth one more turn of the wheel was to be able to witness the moon wax and wane in different parts of the sky? for the energy of the ram and the scales and the seagoat every year-and-a-day? to watch our stars rise and dance in the dark?

to see how the clouds paint sunsets and sunrise through fall and winter? just to see chartreuse emerge triumphant in spring? for pure blue ocean and sky in the middle of july? for cinnamon spice and nutmeg in autumn, pine and peppermint winters, florals for spring and ripe fruit in summer?

for the way we use color and symbols to mark time as celebration of death, decay and life. because if we live time as a flat line from birth, we are only going in one direction. but if we allow existence as a spiral, we get to visit the pumpkin patch and strawberry farm and apple orchard and christmas tree lot, first as children, and then, as we recreate the holidays, we continue to see through new eyes.

it doesn’t just have to be bills and scheduled maintenance and vacations that get us out of the house every time it’s too cold or too hot. it can be magic. it can be why we came back for another look around.