Life is busy … time passes … children grow up … career goals are accomplished … and suddenly we find ourselves in a new stage of life. We are neither young nor old. We have entered a unique developmental period rich with opportunities for growth.

Unfortunately many of us buy into society’s narrow, negative view of aging. We turn away from the natural cycle of life and miss seeing the broader picture. Consider this…

Life is like the seasons. We are born into the spring. The gently warming Earth cradles the young sapling. The soft whispering breeze kisses our skin. Spring fever makes us ache with a longing of things yet to come. This is the season of birth and then the years of becoming. Each year propels us toward the new and exciting – first steps, riding a bike, a shared secret with a bestie, the flush of romance. It’s the season of promise and potential.

Then comes summer. The fruit is ripening, heavy and sweet. And life feels full. Like the turning of pages of a satisfying book, we are deeply engaged in the daily rhythms. We move through our days, our attention shifting from one task to the next until we fall into bed exhausted but content in our productivity. Yes, the summer heat can feel relentless at times, but it is the heat that makes the ice cold watermelon, the dip in the pool, or the coolness of the evening air all the more pleasurable.

Then autumn is upon us as we notice the days gradually shortening. The retreating sun leaves us with a chill, but we quickly remedy this with our cozy sweaters and hearty comfort foods. As the pace of life begins to slow and become more spacious, there may be the faint tug of melancholy, but we are quick to turn our attention towards the beauty of the colorful foliage or the festivities of the upcoming holidays.

And for many of us, this is where our ties to the seasons end. We have the misguided belief that we can simply edit out the winter. Perhaps in our artificially-heated houses, we have lost touch with the natural cycle of life.

But winter will inevitably arrive. It may come on slowly, with the bright colors of the leaves gradually fading and drifting one by one to the ground. Or it may come on suddenly, a storm with pounding rain and insistent winds. Either way, the trees will eventually be bare and exposed with a harsh starkness that may take our breath away if we are not prepared.

The good news is that we can prepare. Think of our ancestors who understood the necessity of preparing for winter. It was in the fall that they would harvest and store food. They would stockpile firewood and repair structures. They did the hard work in anticipation of the coming season.

We, too, can choose to engage in our work. Whereas the first half of our life may have been focused on external world tasks – building an identity, a family, a career – the second half has the spaciousness to focus on our internal work. We have the opportunity to fortify our internal structures – healing past traumas, building community, strengthening relationships, cultivating wisdom and equanimity – to equip ourselves for adversity. So when winter does arrive, our inner fire burns warm and bright, illuminating our path.

This light can guide us as we venture into the forest where we can really experience winter. The bare branches are aglow in the fading golden light. Our bodies move with more care and attention, slowing time, allowing us to sink into the present moment. The quiet stillness reveals a deep peace, a stark relief from the cacophony of life. We are awed by the breathtaking beauty offered by winter and stunned to discover a gift that can ultimately transform us.