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The Season of Our Discontent


As the season of our discontent mirrors our internal divide, Mother Nature looks on with a knowing smile.

The gatekeeper of her cycles is Impermanence.

Trees bow, flowers surrender, even the flies recognize the eternal fleeting nature of transformation. We are all buds waiting to blossom as our gardens celebrate the coming of spring. We are all birds fluttering our fragile wings, while we pine to leave our nests. We are all the heavy cloak of snow, and the warm sand of the tropics. We are all the caterpillar, cocooned, unaware of the beauty it shall soon become.

As we celebrate the coming of spring, it departs as quickly as it arrives, leaving discontent in our wake.

The lazy days of summer take their toll on us as once-fragrant blossoms wilt under the searing sun, and the comfortably warm beach sand begins to burn the soles of our feet.

When will this heatwave end, we wail, bemoaning the soaring temps that fuel our restlessness.

As the crunch of the leaves heralds the fall, we rise to embrace the burnt hues of autumn. Pumpkin spice, hayrides, a chill in the air, we fall into the season with gratitude.

All too soon, we are shivering under the brutal cold of winter.

It's too dark we cry, too frigid, too windy, as the marrow of our bones stiffen with the freeze. Between chattering teeth we moan, will the dark nights, unwelcome cloud cover, bulky clothes and cold tile floors ever end?

Mother Nature meets us where we are as Impermanence transforms buds into blossoms, nests into starting points, and discontent into peaceful acceptance.

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DIARY OF A HOTEL WIFE

Barbara Anne Klein

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