Counter-intuitively, out of all the four seasons, spring is for me the most challenging time of the year. Why not winter, or even autumn, I’ve been asking myself for quite some years. Today when having an afternoon walk with Miika I suddenly realized why.
In Finnish, October and November basically mean “the month of dirt” and “the month of dead”, respectively. That is illustrative of what it looks like up in the north in those months: shades of grey gradually replace what was a moment before lush and green, lifelessness finally invading what remains visible to the eye. But, paradoxically, the greyer, darker and colder it gets outside, the more comfortable I feel in my own skin. Being surrounded by very little life helps me feel my own pulse.
While there is something soothing about those dim days, the increasing amount of light and rising temperature in the springtime make me feel rather small and inadequate. Observing nature busy producing new life – grass, leaves, flowers, bugs, animal babies etc, creates an overwhelming contrast with my own state of creativity and productivity. Despite all my efforts, my contribution to humanity’s project of taking the world somewhere feels just like a drop in the ocean.
However, kids are told not to compare themselves with others, and neither should I. After all, how could I ever measure up to the One who conjures up life from dead? No, I’m a human being, and there will always be a gap between what I’d like to create, and what I end up producing. It’s a matter of fact that one day I will exit this world leaving behind a number of half-finished books, persons who I would have loved to get to know better, and projects I had only managed to draft in my head.
And, that’s fine. It’s my part as a human being, while there is someone else, who is capable of completing everything. In fact, the most important has already been fulfilled. What a relief.