SEASONS AND BEYOND BLOG
Today’s reflection is a reflection on reflection itself. Over the past 23 days, I’ve spent time thinking deeply about each day—what it brought, the thoughts it provoked, and the feelings and ideas it brought closer to my heart. I’m truly thankful for this process, and I think it’s something that could be meaningful for anyone interested in exploring it. As a teacher, I also see this as an excellent creative writing activity. It has helped me grow, develop, and connect with my thoughts.
That said, I’m not sure I’d be able to do this every single day. Even though it has such a tremendous vibe and brings a lot of meaning to my life—helping me focus, be thankful, and find something valuable each day—it’s a big commitment. That’s why I think it’s nice to have a specific season, like Advent, Lent, or even summer, to dedicate to this kind of reflection. I’m not sure if this is the end of the journey or the beginning of something new and different. Perhaps it’s both. Either way, I’m grateful for what the experience has given me so far, and can't wait to see where it takes me next. I had been dreading this day—the day when seasonal symptoms would catch up with me. Today, it happened. I felt under the weather, kept a low profile, and worried about all the things I might miss if I don't recover soon. It's funny how our bodies communicate with us. Maybe mine is telling me to slow down. Sometimes, slow days just happen, and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm hopeful that I'll get better quickly and be able to enjoy the break. Life has a way of throwing unexpected challenges our way, often when we have plans. It feels like things shouldn't go wrong at these moments, but they do. I'm trying to embrace this and find the good in it, even when it doesn't seem obvious. This situation reminded me of the parable of the Chinese farmer: Once upon a time, there was a Chinese farmer whose horse ran away. That evening, all his neighbours came around to commiserate. They said, "We are so sorry to hear your horse has run away. This is most unfortunate." The farmer replied, "I'm not sure it's such bad news." The next day, the horse came back, bringing seven wild horses with it, and in the evening, everybody came back and said, "Oh, isn't that lucky. What a great turn of events. You now have eight horses!" The farmer replied, "I'm not sure it's such good news." The following day, his son tried to break one of the horses, and while riding it, he was thrown and broke his leg. The neighbours then said, "Oh dear, that's too bad," and the farmer responded, "I'm not sure it's such bad news." The next day, the conscription officers came around to conscript people into the army, and they rejected his son because he had a broken leg. Again, all the neighbours came around and said, "Isn't that great!" Again, he said, "I'm not sure it's such good news. Life's twists and turns are unpredictable, and what seems unfortunate now may lead to something positive later. I'm keeping this in mind today.
While preparing my Christmasy cabbage stew today, I opened the freezer and was delighted to find a whole jar of bay leaves that I had stored there after the summer. These bay leaves come from my tiny plot, and I planted, harvested, and dried them myself. It made me so happy to use something I grew and prepared in my cooking. Then, as I stood there, I started thinking: this isn’t the only thing I’ve had a hand in making .
I also have raspberry syrup from the harvest on my little plot, lavender bunches I use for inhalation, and pine syrup I made from pine needles my mom and I gathered in the woods. And that’s not all. When I opened my pantry, I found so many little things that, while not completely self-made, have my tiny fingerprint on them. Each one comes with a story—how I picked fruit with Rachel, pruned lavender in the sunlight, or carefully planted and harvested my own garlic. These small things bring me so much joy because they’re not just products; they’re memories. I hope that next year, as I plan and plant, I’ll be able to grow even more—not just in my allotment but perhaps in pots around my home, too. There’s something so deeply satisfying about these little creations - they bring pure joy! Today’s reflection is about giving. I have a friend who makes a big deal out of giving presents. Her whole Advent season is centred around it—like opening an Advent calendar with a chocolate every day, but instead of chocolates, it’s thoughtful gifts for others. She’s so diligent in her preparations, and I’m always so grateful for her generosity. She also has people around her who think of her, perhaps because they see how much joy giving brings her. I think she’s quite lucky to have that. But not everyone does.
When I talk to people, or even when I think about myself, I realize how important it is to make room for our own happiness, too. Years ago, I encouraged my mom to buy something nice for herself during this season. She was always so careful, worried about spending too much on herself, but I think it’s good to use this time as an opportunity to treat ourselves a little. It’s not selfish—it’s a way of caring for ourselves. The presents we give to ourselves should bring us joy. This year, I’ve treated myself to a few surprises, and I’m so glad I did. They’re not sitting under a Christmas tree because I don’t have the habit of doing that. (Plus my Christmas tree, especially this year, is not exactly the place where I could put anything) Instead, they’re already in use, bringing me joy right now. I don't need a special encouragement or reminder to do that but if you do - I am challenging you - get yourself something special this season! Today’s reflection is about my Christmas tree. Well, to call it a “Christmas tree” might be a bit of a stretch. It started as a little branch from a pine tree—a simple piece that was supposed to hang in my window as a decorative touch. But things didn’t quite go as planned. The branch started leaking sap, making it impossible to hang. So, I improvised. I stuck the branch in a water container, added a few more pine branches for balance, and just like that, my little pretend-to-be Christmas tree was born.
It’s far from impressive. In fact, it’s more of a stick than a tree. But it has so much charm and character. It’s quirky, unique, and feels like a reflection of me and my home. Every time I look at it, I can’t help but laugh—it’s so hilariously simple. And yet, it brings me so much joy. Well, I like my Christmas tree very much . I hope you like yours too. Just as it is. I often say that I dislike Christmas—sometimes even that I hate it. I know this might sound strange coming from a Christian, but for me, Christmas time has become so stressful. It feels like a season full of obligations—eating, meeting, buying, seeing, doing—and often not because I want to, but because I feel I have to.
Today, I’ve been thinking about what we truly need, and I’ve realized that the greatest gift we can offer someone is freedom. Freedom to choose. Freedom to decide. Freedom to be. Freedom to make mistakes. Freedom to sit at the breakfast table on Christmas morning—or not. Freedom to exchange presents and freedom not to. Freedom to eat fish, cake, cabbage or whatever else there is on the table or not. Freedom to say yes. Freedom to say no. Christmas is a beautiful time. I wish I’d never find myself saying that I dislike or hate it. And perhaps the way forward is to remember this: the greatest gift I can give, to others and to myself, is freedom. Freedom from expectations, freedom to simply be. When I woke up this morning, I already knew what I craved most: a nap. My day was packed to the brim with errands to run, catch-ups to squeeze in, and phone calls to make. It was one of those super busy days where I felt like I was constantly on the move.
By the afternoon, my body finally had enough. It said “stop,” and I listened. I gave it what it had been asking for since the morning—a nap. I believe in the restorative and healing power of sleep. A good nap can reset my energy, clear my mind, and make me feel human again. Despite its bad PR, I’ve learned to trust my body; it knows what’s good for me, even when my mind tries to push through. And now, as the day winds down, I’m pampering myself with a cup of cocoa. Today turned out to be a “body day”—a reminder to listen, to pause, and to take care of myself when I need it. Somebody: What kind of coffee do I like?
Me: Well, it depends. It depends on the day, on the season, on my mood. Sometimes I like it black, strong, and simple. Sometimes I like it sweet—perfect for a scorching hot dessert scenario. Other times, I want it with cocoa, milk, spices - cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg or even cumin. My preference shifts, and I’ve realized that’s exactly how I feel about many things in life. I don’t have just one favourite. I like to explore, to test, to try new things. And that got me thinking: maybe (or even for sure) there are so many things I haven’t discovered yet. So many tastes, ideas, and experiences I’d enjoy if I only gave them a chance. I feel open to these discoveries—especially when it comes to food, one of my favourite areas to experiment in. But I guess it goes beyond that. I want to keep trying, keep exploring, and stay curious. I don’t want to settle for having one all-time favourite. Instead, I want to stay open to finding 'new' all-time favourites, over and over again. That’s something I want to remember—to keep my curiosity alive and untamed. Today’s reflection is about progress. As a teacher, I’m lucky to witness progress often—more often than not—and it’s such a thrill. Watching someone improve, overcome challenges, and achieve something new is one of the most rewarding parts of what I do. And I know that feeling firsthand too—that spark of joy when I realize I’ve made progress myself.
Yesterday, while practicing yoga, I had one of those moments. Lately, I’ve felt like I’ve hit a plateau, seeing very little improvement over the past few months. But yesterday was different. I noticed a tiny step forward (the crow in today’s reflection picture is a reminder of what the achievement was), and it made me so happy. It reminded me just how much progress matters—not only for the results but also for the energy and motivation it gives me to keep going. Progress doesn’t always come quickly. Sometimes it feels like being in the middle of a desert, wondering if anything is really changing. And sometimes, progress simply means holding steady—staying where I am and not falling behind. I believe that if I put my heart into something and stay consistent, progress will come. It’s true in teaching, in personal growth, and in life. And when it does, it’s such a good feeling. Today felt a little different. I found myself strolling through the town market just after 6 a.m., at an hour when the streets were nearly empty. The quiet was refreshing, and what made it even better was that I didn’t have to be there—it was entirely my choice. Starting my weekend this way, with no pressing agenda, felt surprisingly good.
At first, it didn’t seem like much—a simple morning walk. But there was something oddly freeing about it, almost absurd in its simplicity. Wandering the town at such an early hour, without any urgent reason, reminded me that I’m in control of how I spend my time. That small act of choosing something untypical for the moment felt empowering. I think I want to do this more often—step outside the usual rhythm, go against the current. And while I love following seasonal routines, breaking away now and then reminds me that I can create my own flow. And that, in itself, feels pretty liberating. |
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