When Life Doesn’t Look Like It’s Living

Today was day one of breaking my routine.

Not because I was bored with it.
Not because it no longer served me.

It was because circumstances outside of my control — increased wildlife, more people with the earlier daylight, and my under-trained dog named Moon — signaled it was time for a change.

And honestly, when I first started considering change as a possibility, I would be lying if I didn’t admit there was resistance.

It felt like loss.

For nearly a year we’ve headed to the field before most people have their first cup of coffee. I’ve talked to the same trees, listened to the same birds, and walked to the rhythm of familiar sounds. It became part of me. So naturally, doing things differently felt disruptive.

But disruption isn’t always a sign that something is wrong.

Sometimes it’s simply a sign that a season is changing.

Interestingly enough, while all of this was unfolding, I was trying to capture a message about an amazing wisteria plant I affectionately call Wisty.

I’ve witnessed her through every season.

Dormant months where she looked completely lifeless. Quiet months where there appeared to be no evidence of growth at all. And yet, if you looked closely, there was still green at the tips. The vines that appeared dead were still slowly reaching, still creeping forward in ways almost impossible to notice unless you were paying attention.

For whatever reason, I started taking pictures throughout many of her stages.

Her tendrils reach for anything willing to stay still long enough — including a younger tree planted nearby that she slowly wrapped herself around during her less vibrant months. Even while appearing dormant, she was still engaging with life.

I captured her in her low time, quiet time, still time… where life didn’t look like it was living.

Then came tiny buds.

Fresh green leaves.

And eventually those gorgeous blooms of wisteria spilling into every visible crevice, showcasing in grand fashion the evidence of a full and vibrant life.

Maybe that’s why I’ve always loved Wisty so much.

She reminds me that life often continues long before bloom becomes visible.

This reminds me so much of the women I’ve had the honor of supporting through seasons where they felt small, dim, disconnected, or flat. Women in their prime who have lived, loved, succeeded, checked all the boxes… and yet quietly wonder if something inside them has gone dormant.

When I ask what they want, many respond:
“I have everything I need.”
“It’s too late.”
“I should be grateful.”

Maybe they’ve simply stopped engaging with themselves in the ways that once brought them alive.

Because sometimes we don’t need a completely different life.

Sometimes we simply need a new way to engage with the one we already have.

Today was my first day trying something new.

Whenever we intentionally break a pattern — or life breaks it for us — it has the potential to create change far beyond the original disruption.

This morning I walked a route I had been curious about for years. Truthfully, I wasn’t entirely excited about it. I didn’t sleep well last night and I woke up feeling a little cranky. Even when we welcome change, it can still feel uncomfortable at first.

But along the walk I noticed something else.

Lately I haven’t been engaging the way I once was.

My conversations have slowed. My writing has shifted. My pace has changed. I initially interpreted it as maybe feeling less inspired, but after pulling at the threads a bit longer, I realized maybe I’m not uninspired at all.

Maybe it’s simply time to engage differently.

Different paths.
Different exchanges.
Different perspectives.

The field served me beautifully for a season.

And now another season is asking something different of me.

Maybe that’s true for all of us.

I can’t imagine how Wisty feels each winter when she loses every leaf and appears exhausted and bare. But imagine how she must feel when life begins returning again — slowly stretching toward warmth and light after a season of rest.

All in all, today turned out to be a good day.

We found a couple open fields where I could toss the ball for Maggy and Moon. I found treasures along the way — a rose as big as my head, a spider ring, and a pasture full of cows watching me as I hoofed my way up a long hill.

And perhaps most importantly…

I engaged.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

No matter what it is, I will be ready to engage again.