When I initially typed the title of this writing, I was not thinking of my human birth. I had in mind to write about my soul awakening—with a completely different subtitle. Yet, as soon as I reread the header, before typing another word, I knew a very different story was going to emerge.
My curiosity was piqued. I was prompted to look up the winter of my physical birth, which took place in New York City in the month of February.
The New York Times headline on February 1 of the year of my birth read:
SNOWSTORM TURNS TO FREEZING RAIN; ICE PERILS TRAFFIC; AS WINTER’S HEAVIEST SNOW FELL ON THE CITY
Yes, in type that big. I copied and pasted it.
And yes, that headline could have been copied from the publication on the same date in 2026.
That alone told me I was right to follow my curiosity. (Signs that lead to going down rabbit holes are both intuitive nudges as well as common stimuli for writers.)
So I have no doubt my curiosity led to a message. But not about the weather. It’s about the seasons of life being inseparable from Nature’s seasons. And not only the seasons of my life; the seasons of humanity as well.
The message: We’re on a cyclical path as individuals and as a species. And we’re best served by observing and following Nature’s example of best practices.
Nature rewards adaptation, as evidenced by those stubborn little flowers (or weeds) that poke through cracks in the sidewalk, seeking sunlight.
Nature also compensates for living things that might have fulfilled their purpose on their path and now serve as fertilizer for newer versions of the species. In Nature, that looks like trees shedding leaves in autumn, which serve as ground cover protecting the soil until the next growth season. Or as fallen trees in the forest decomposing, returning the earth’s riches back to their source.
Nature shows us we can spiral upward in our cycles (evolution) and enjoy lives of joy, peace, and happiness while blooming again and again, basking in appreciation of the wonders of life.
Or we can become so stagnant in our repetition of taking the same path that we (metaphorically) begin to decompose. In the physical, that could look like disease or mental illness. Spiritually, it could look like isolation or sense of futility.
We’re not meant to keep tracing the same path over and over. Each time around, we face a choice: We can uplevel to the next iteration—experiencing the journey from a higher perspective. Or, we can repeat the same road over and over, never getting new results even with a variation in circumstances.
I think the two photos below are visual representations of our choices of viewpoints. The top, black-and-white version illustrates stark contrast, a blend of beauty with bleakness. The bottom, in soft colors, brings a sense of restful warmth to the season instead of cold starkness.
The options are not statements of value or worth. “There is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so,” said Shakespeare via Hamlet in the play of the same name.
Human beings always have choice. It’s called free will. What will you choose?
Now, it just so happens that my birthday is one week from today, on Friday, February 13.
My curiosity also led me to check the weather on the day of my birth in New York City: 64°F! Only 12 days after the season’s heaviest snowfall, I was born on a day that marks the city’s hottest temperature on record (still to this date) for February 13.
For me, 2026 marks a biggie as far as birthdays. You know—one of those ages that end in 0 or 5. (That definition of “biggie” begins at age 30.) And this year marks another significant place on the timeline for me: three-quarters of a century.
Being alive for that span of time is reason enough to warrant reflection. Being on this planet at this time in history demands it.
And I happen to have a work-in-progress that does exactly that. The introduction to that book-in-progress will be published here in next week’s issue. It will be the only time I’ll include an excerpt of my work intended for publication elsewhere in the free version of this newsletter.
Here are the first two paragraphs for you:
I was born into an age of conformity. My first decade of life was the 1950s. Although I was born in the Bronx, New York, from age 6 through 18 I lived at One Meadowbrook Lane in a suburban community of cookie-cutter houses of mostly stay-at-home moms with Dwight Eisenhower in the White House and Donna Reed on TV.
My teens began with the assassinations of JFK, RFK, and MLK and ended with LBJ, Nixon and Vietnam, Women’s Lib, and Roe vs Wade. No wonder I became an editor upon graduating college in 1973. The world was a mess.
©Shelley Lieber
I hope that piques your interest enough to open next week’s edition of SMUDGE! with the Energy Sage. Or perhaps even motivate you to upgrade to a paid subscription or offer your support with a donation.