Do you experience personal or creative seasons?

Most of us go through regular phases, whether or not the weather outside is actually changing. Here's how I'm embracing the shift.

Here in Phoenix, the summer heat has only just given way to autumn weather. Our evenings and early mornings are finally chilly, and the breeze is crisp and cool enough for us to keep our windows open for more than a few minutes at a time. Most of us are emerging from our air-conditioned homes to spend meaningful time outdoors for the first time in months.

While this is one of my favorite times of year, I can’t help but occasionally resent that Phoenix doesn’t experience “true” fall. Here, September and October boast 90+ degree afternoons. Some of our trees change colors, but most of them remain green. There’s no apple-picking or fresh cider to be had here. And despite what some Phoenicians might have you think, it’s really not cold enough to bundle up in puff jackets and beanies every time you step outside.

When I start to feel this way—or when an ornery colleague from across the United States feels brave enough to poke fun at my favorite city—I remind myself that in just a couple months, Phoenix will be frolicking outside while much of the country scowls at their ice-coated windshields, hunkers down for a heavy snow day, or grits their teeth at a hefty heating bill. Winter is a particularly joyful season for us because we’re able to do all of the things we dreamed of doing during the triple-digit summer, like hiking, cycling, picnicking, grilling, taking our dogs on long walks, and so on. That’s just how it is here. (And in California, I guess, but California has just about everything.)

And then, when summer rolls around and I’m stuck inside with a jigsaw puzzle and Planet Coaster, I’ll be jealous of everyone who gets to emerge from their home to play outside. Fair’s fair.

It only hit me somewhat recently that this is how people often work, too. A colleague might rack up a literary award and a bumper crop of new freelance clients as I’m struggling to even put words on the page. One friend might be flush with new story ideas while another faces the toughest writer’s block of their life. I might be proud of a recent milestone at the gym when someone in my life lacks the motivation to exercise. And then, almost inevitably, the tables turn: My friend busts through her writer’s block with a killer essay, and I haven’t been to the gym in weeks.

Most of the time, we have a good deal of control over what we do—but we don’t always have control over the circumstances in which we do it. Sometimes it’s the actual, literal weather that prevents us from doing our best—or that gently ushers us toward something we’re proud of. On other occasions, our ability to feel well or do great things is dictated by something else: a burst of inspiration, a family emergency, a struggle with mental illness, an acceptance of some sort.

I know we’re flush with vaguely inspirational, plant-related metaphors for life: the grass is green where you water it and bloom where you are planted and not all seeds bear fruit. We don’t reeeally need another one. But if the world around us gets to go through seasons, why can’t we?

Rather than getting frustrated with myself for not operating at 100% all the time, I’ve started to delight in noticing my personal seasons. I’ve found that I’m most gung ho about taking on a lot of work or personal projects at the start of the year and during summer; things feel fresh and new and full of opportunity, or I’m cooped up inside with nothing better to do. But during late autumn and early winter, I slow down, using more of my time to rest, reflect, and refill my cup.

Some seasons are a lot more specific. During the summer, I love to read nonfiction—standing in a pool with a lengthy read from the nature or society section of the bookstore is my definition of a great afternoon. But when I’m cozying up for winter, I like getting sucked into a good story. Sometimes I feel like a social butterfly, going weeks without any meaningful time to myself; other times, I want to be left alone for days on end. Some months, my depression and anxiety kick my ass, but during others I feel light and free.

There’s a lot of pressure, especially with the spotlight of social media, to reach a point at which we’ve “made it” and then sustain that sense of stability or success long-term. But the reality is that we’re just like the rest of nature: we go through flux. Rather than resenting our own personal shifts, we can turn toward them with a sense of curiosity and acceptance, if not endorsement. And we can prepare. We can take on that extra project, knowing that in a few months, we’ll work slower days. We can use periods of mental well-being to set up safety nets for when we feel poorly again. We can stock up on nonfiction from the library when summer approaches.

I’m embracing my seasons, and I’m honestly looking forward to seeing which “new” ones I gain or notice throughout my life. Maybe I’ll treat myself a little more kindly next time my writerly productivity wanes, knowing it will eventually wax again. Maybe I’ll even embrace Phoenix’s 110-degree summers, knowing that in just a few months the air will cool, and we’ll all go outside to play.

What’s been inspiring me lately:

✰ Ina Garten’s memoir, Be Ready When the Luck Happens. I’m still listening to this one, but I’m comforted by Garten’s slapdash approach to following her dreams and finding success on her own terms. I had no idea that Garten was the daughter of a Russian immigrant, that she truly did build a successful food empire out of nothing, and that she didn’t even begin to figure out her ideal career path until she was 30. Also, the audiobook version is narrated by Garten herself, and it feels like a warm hug.

✰ The Southwest Wildlife Conservation Center, a non-profit rehabilitation facility and sanctuary for Arizona mammals that have been injured, orphaned, or displaced. My partner and I went on a tour of SWCC last weekend, and my heart absolutely burst with love for these desert creatures, plus the dedicated volunteers working to save native species one life at a time. I’ve adored coyotes, wolves, and other wild mammals since I was small, so getting to see them up close was a dream!

Look at this beautiful Mexican gray wolf! He was just lounging in a patch of morning sun. 😊

✰ This tweet (note the date):