Transitions
I’ve been thinking about transitions a lot recently.
The transition we make from the womb to birth, taking our first breath in this crazy, noisy, bright environment. How must it feel to a small being, so vulnerable and unable to fend for itself?
Then we grow up, of course, and experience all those wonderful transitions that are part of life: naming days, first days at nursery, school or university, first love. We have lots of adventures along the way; some good, some challenging.
We enter into work and then perhaps marriage or a partnership. This might lead us onto family life and, in certain circumstances, maybe divorce or separation before remarriage. Along the way we inevitably encounter illness, sadness and disagreement. Eventually, however, and if we’re fortunate, we might think about retiring and enjoying the autumn of our lives before it is time to leave this world.
At the moment, I’m experiencing my own transition from employment back to self-employment and the challenges and excitement that come with that.
I’ve been thinking, too, about how our seasons echo our transitions. Here in Scotland, we’re transitioning from summer back towards autumn. We’ve just experienced a gorgeous Summer Solstice and a period of unusually warm weather. Our gardens are fresh and green, our energy is high. We stay up late, rejoicing in light nights and warm days. In fact, I was having a disagreement with my young grandson, Bobby, this week, who didn’t want to go to bed when it was “still morning” outside!
Too soon will come Autumn with her rich golds and oranges and then Winter with her black, velvet cloak. But for now, it’s time to have some fun! To get outside, top up our Vitamin D and enjoy all that Summer has still to bring.
Here is a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson, from A Child’s Garden of Verses, which I thought apt for this week:
Bed in Summer
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
