After Autumn comes Summer

In northern Scandinavia, we were already in the thick of it. Autumn. Unavoidable. Trees were ablaze. Yellow, red, deep orange. The air was clear and crisp. The days were noticeably shorter. The landscape seemed to say: look closely, now I'm at my most beautiful.

Driving with the seasons

The further south we drove, the milder the weather became. The cold receded, and the days stayed longer. Suddenly, we were back in late summer. As if time had changed its tune. Or perhaps we weren't driving away from autumn, but taking it south with us.

Our latest video featuring footage from Denmark and Germany

The richness of autumn

We've been to Scandinavia many times, and every season has its beauty. But autumn was more beautiful than we'd ever seen. So beautiful in color, so rich and raw at the same time. Not as a prelude to winter, but standing alone and full of pride.

The seasons of a human life

While driving, I thought about the sweat lodges I used to frequent. They say we humans also live through the four seasons. We often neatly divide them by age: spring, summer, fall, winter. But who says you only get one spring? Or that summer can't start over after a long fall?

“Looking at the seasons, you see not only the landscape, but also yourself.”

Spring

Spring belongs to the east. Where the sun rises. The season of beginnings. Of ideas that present themselves without a clear form. An inner knowing that something wants to move. Spring is fresh and restless at the same time. It demands trust, not because you know where it's going, but precisely because you don't yet.

Summer

Summer is in the south. The sun is high. Everything is open. Energy flows more easily. What you've previously committed now carries you. Not because life knows no resistance, but because you feel you can handle it all easily.

Autumn

Autumn belongs to the West. The light fades. Things can no longer be held. The season of farewell, but also of harvest. Of seeing what has ripened. Of lessons that only reveal themselves if you dare to look at them.

Winter

And winter. The north. The silence. The return to the core. The period when nothing is necessary but takes on great meaning. On the surface, everything seems to have ground to a halt, but underground, work is underway. Prepared. Without haste.

My father's winter

My father recently passed away. We had to cut our previous trip short to say a final goodbye. Looking back, he was in the winter of his life. His world shrank, his body slowed down. Much of what had previously guided him disappeared. And yet, beneath that silence, all sorts of things happened. Things were wrapped up, perhaps for him, but certainly for me. His death felt not only a loss, but also a completion.

Advertisement:

Click on this banner and then buy something at bol.com

A small percentage of your purchase goes towards funding this website.

Against the calendar

According to the calendar, we're undeniably in winter right now. But it doesn't feel that way to me. If I'm honest, I'm currently living in spring. All sorts of things are emerging, yet still without clear outlines. A new trip is about to be planned! We're traveling again, but where to?

The center point

Perhaps what concerns me most is who within me observes all this? Who determines which season I'm in? There's something that can observe, that can distance itself. The Native Americans call it the center point. The place from which you can observe without merging with what you feel. You're not angry, you act angry. You're not sad, you act sad. And you're not a season. You move through it.

What season are you in?

---

Enter your email address at the bottom of this page and you'll receive an email no more than once a week when we post a new blog post. If you'd like to support us financially so we can keep this website online, please donate via this link .