Seasons are humbling. A gentle reminder that time is passing. The changing of seasons encourage solitary moments to pause in time and think about life as it is today compared to a year ago. A chance to acknowledge past circumstances, perhaps relationships written in dust long but blown away. An opportunity to look for growth and set tracking on achieving life’s goals.
Southern California tricks us into a timeless capsule: where one day is viewed the same as it was a month ago, or as it will be six months from the day. It’s like someone, or something, has hit “pause” on nature’s cycle. Don’t let San Diego’s grand beauty (or lack thereof) trick your mind into thinking that everything remains the same. It doesn’t—life goes on with or without your conscience state. There is an imbalance living in this dreamland, but once recognized, where does one go from here?
Everyday without question the sun rises and greets the Earth for more than awhile before it slips back down on the horizon and the silver moon rises up engulfing the hazey night sky. But the stars do not exist here, the layout of astrological wonders that occupy our grand colossal ceiling are missing. This follows only naturally along with absent autumn leaves, or rain or snowfall for necessary vegetation. San Diegans don’t witness the atrocities that plague our world, because in southern California, this is our world. A stretch of desert made beautiful by its people, its seas, its weather: The nation’s finest city.
Maybe it’s not meant for wanderers or restless souls seeking change.
No, the wind calls us elsewhere.
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