Living in Cycles

Honoring the seasons within and around us

Jul 16, 2025

We’re in the heart of summer now. The days are long and warm, and the world around us feels full, alive with color, energy, and life at its peak.

Even here, though, at the height of summer, the cycle is already turning. Quietly, almost imperceptibly, the days begin to shorten. The light lingers a little less each evening, a gentle reminder that nothing stays the same forever.

This is nature in her summer season — steady and abundant after the wild burst of spring. Soon autumn will come, and we will gather what has grown, harvesting what has ripened. Then, as the leaves fall, nature will begin to let go of what no longer belongs to this year. After that, winter will return, quiet and regenerative, preparing the ground for another spring.

The rythm we forgot

In nature, this rhythm is inevitable. It is necessary. Decomposition creates new life. Nothing is wasted. We can see this wisdom all around us — in the turning of the seasons, in the shifting phases of the moon, in the ebb and flow of the tide. Even in the female body, we find this same pattern, moving through monthly phases of rising, peaking, softening, and shedding, mirroring what the earth herself does every year.

And yet, in our daily lives, we so often forget.

We seem stuck in spring and summer energy. Always moving, creating, producing, striving. We rarely allow ourselves time to slow down and reflect. We forget that the quieter seasons of life are just as important as the active ones. Perhaps because we’re afraid of letting go, we hold on tighter than we need to.

It strikes me as almost ironic that winter, the season nature has chosen for deep rest, is often the busiest time of year at work. We’re asked to push through, meet deadlines, deliver results, and keep going. Here in Norway, that often means going weeks without seeing daylight while working full time. We live against the rhythm of things, and then wonder why we feel so tired.

Even the workday itself is built on a pattern that doesn’t fit us all. The nine-to-five schedule was designed around the male circadian rhythm, which resets every 24 hours. But the female infradian rhythm moves more slowly, unfolding over weeks rather than days.

How did we come to structure our lives in a way that feels so disconnected from the natural and bodily rhythms that sustain us?

Learning to honor my seasons

One of the biggest shifts I’ve experienced since working for myself has been learning to honor the seasons of my own energy. But it didn’t come easily. After years of being shaped by office culture, I still sometimes feel guilty if I’m not productive during “work hours,” as though rest needs to be earned.

Slowly, though, I’ve begun to listen more closely. To notice what season my body and life are in. To trust that each one has its own purpose — even the slower, more inward ones.

I’ve also learned that the season outside and the season inside don’t always match. The world around me might be full of summer light and energy, yet my body or soul may still feel in winter, craving stillness and reflection. Or I might feel autumn in my heart, letting go of something even as spring blooms outside my window. And that is okay.

The creative process has its own rhythm too. There are times for planting seeds, times for waiting, times when inspiration bursts through like spring, and times when I simply need to rest and let my ideas take root below the surface. Honoring this cycle has taught me to trust that everything unfolds in its own time.

Learning to live in rhythm has also transformed how I approach my life as a whole. When I worked full-time, I was always counting down to the next vacation, longing for space to breathe. Now I allow myself to ebb and flow more naturally, without forcing myself into someone else’s rhythm. If inspiration arrives on a Saturday evening, I welcome it. If my body asks for rest on a Tuesday morning, I listen. I try to let my own seasons lead the way and trust that the next spark of inspiration will arrive when it’s ready.

Using Yin Yoga as a tool

Learning the philosophy behind yin yoga has helped me understand what each season of my life is craving, and how to find balance within it. Rooted in Chinese medicine, yin yoga draws on the wisdom of the five elements. Each element corresponds to a season of the year, carrying with it distinct qualities, emotions, and archetypes.

Through yin, I’ve learned to honor not just the outward, active seasons but also the inward, reflective ones:

Spring — Wood element
A season of beginnings. Energy rises, asking you to plant seeds, dream, and take the first brave steps toward growth.
Summer — Fire element
A season of fullness. Energy expands, inviting you to shine, share your gifts, and stand fully in your light.
Late Summer — Earth element
A season of grounding and integration. A time to pause, reflect, and nourish yourself as the energy begins to shift.
Autumn — Metal element
A season of letting go. Energy softens, helping you release what no longer serves and make space for what’s next.
Winter — Water element
A season of rest. Energy turns inward, reminding you that stillness is the fertile ground where new life begins.

In the coming weeks, or whenever my own season tells me the time is right, I’ll share more about each element, exploring their meaning and offering gentle practices to help you honor the season you’re in.

But for now, I invite you to pause.
Take a slow, full breath.
Notice what season is alive in you today, and how it might guide you.

Post-script: Letters from Apri City

In the heart of Apri City, stands the sacred Rowan.

Planted the day this city was founded,
it has watched us through every turn of the seasons.
Its red berries burn bright in autumn.
Its white blossoms welcome spring.
Its branches are light in summer,
yet strong in winter winds.
It reminds us — nothing stays still, and nothing is wasted.

The Rowan was chosen for what it carries.
In the old stories, it is the tree of intuition —
a guide for travelers, a protector of what matters.
It bridges the seen and unseen,
reminding us to notice what quietly shifts beneath the surface.
Even in the hardest winters,
it shows us that life is already preparing to return.

So when we gather here, beneath its branches, we remember.
We remember that this city lives because we keep choosing it,
season after season, story after story.
We remember that our roots are intertwined,
even when the winds are strong.
And we remember to trust what is quietly growing among us, even now.

The Rowan stands for us all.
Holding our dreams, our courage, our quiet knowing:
Spring always comes. Together, we will meet it.

With barefoot dreams and solar flares,
Astrid & Eira

Tag along the journey, as Apri City continues to unfold.