“Here is the truth about the seasons: Spring is May and June! What could be springier than May and June? Summer is July and August. Really hot, right? Autumn is September and October. See the pumpkins? Smell those burning leaves. Next comes the season called “Locking.” That is when Nature shuts everything down. November and December aren’t Winter. They’re Locking. Next comes Winter, January and February. Boy! Are they ever cold! What comes next? Not Spring. Unlocking comes next. What else could April be?”  — Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

This quote has been ringing in my head ever since I came across it. Though it is a wise perspective on the seasons, for sure (especially in crazy northern New Mexico)…it is the idea of locking and unlocking that grabbed me. And, hasn’t let go.

“Locking.” That is when Nature shuts everything down.” It is perfectly relevant to make a comparison here to the recent past years. But, it is also way too simplified.

Because, it doesn’t take a pandemic-enforced quarantine for us to fall into the natural flow of being human. Of having ‘seasons’ in which we lock down. And, those in which we then unfurl and angle our faces back into the light.

In fact, I wonder about whether the shutdown that we experienced – that, at the time, we had no say over – may sour the current civilization on something that is so necessary. So natural. So vital for our evolution as individuals and as a collective.

Just as nature needs a couple of months, according to Vonnegut, for locking every year – we too need moments or stretches of time – of solitude, restoration, reflection, and going inward. What we do with that time is personal. And, may need to happen in the midst of getting our kids to school and ourselves to work. Very few of us have our own private Waldens.

Regardless, there is no shame in the thirst for quiet…

Next comes the season called “Locking.” That is when Nature shuts everything down.

To be honest, though I didn’t know it at the time – the pandemic provided me with something I desperately needed. The space and time to lock.

I don’t think I will ever be as I was before that opportunity. Nor, would I want to be.

I do know – though its been a long season personally – that I am slowly…unlocking…For the moment. I am angling my face up to the light once again.

Recently, I was on a trip with my family in a city that was exuberant in its unlockedness. The locals drinking together in cafes and literally frolicking with one another in parks. The aliveness was palatable. Intoxicating. Inspiring.

I wonder, was the joy as large before? Did the universal locking provide us with the freshness to come back together again with a little less cynicism? And, maybe a bit more sweetness? And, genuine gratitude.

If there is no other reason to be locked for a moment – maybe the renewed appreciation for each other, and the world around us, once we unlock – is enough….

That is what happens with nature after all.

It gets quiet and dark. The quieter and darker it gets – the more vibrant and bright it becomes in its awakening. And, this is a continuous cycle.

I believe in the incredible importance to heed the call.

Whether it is to lock. Or, unlock.

We should pay attention…as if our lives depend on it.

The beautiful brilliance of the light is too good not to.