I’m in a new season. I didn’t cause this—nor do I control it—but I know I’m somewhere different. And there’s no going back.
The season might be new but the process is familiar. These rhythmic changes used to scare me, disorient me, contort me. In the face of each seasonal inner transformation, I felt I must embrace a new identity or hold on tightly to who I was, a barren tree in summer or a leafed out tree in winter. I stayed out of sync with the seasons and by virtue, risked not making it to the next.
But here—where I know more about who I am but not necessarily where I’m going—I aim during this season for more consolidation, better integration. I now know it’s possible, if not imperative, for me to stand tall with all my limbs, as teacher, physician, psychiatrist, writer, and furniture professional. Why would I saw off any one of these growths? Their leaves sit at my trunk’s base, composting into soil, nourishing my roots, and growing the person I will be next, all the while serving as reminder of who I am.
Recently, I really needed that. And expect, in another season, to need it again.
To livin’ a life we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD
