There’s a common saying that change is the only constant in life—and in that, I’d have to agree. But for something so ever-present, change rarely feels like the kind of familiar friend you’d invite over for a coffee catch up. No, change often feels like a stranger. Elusive. Unsettling. Sometimes, even frightening. Perhaps this feeling is because we put too much pressure on ‘change’—we expect it to show up with clarity, to knock on the door, state its case and explain itself. We want change to look a certain way, and to arrive on our terms. More often, change arrives as a seed: unassuming, and carried to us by forces of a natural kind of unfolding... Seeds of change are passed to us through life’s strong winds (challenging times), passing creatures (friends, family, people we come into contact with), or the slow uncovering of layered leaves and melting snow cover (prolonged seasons and chapters of life that teach us important lessons). During unexpected and challenging moments in life that we might name as seasons of chaos, or moments of stillness that we mistake for stagnation, change arrives and asks for patience. It takes root in the darkness, beneath the surfaces of what we can name—and it emerges slowly, full of possibility under shifting soil until it breaks through and reaches upward and outward.