Embodying a Cyclical Spring — The Art of Transition

I was chatting with a friend recently about a movie idea — their's, not mine — and we were playing around with the idea of how it should begin. It was hard because this movie could potentially be a TV series instead. My friend planned out each character's backstory, how they progress to know each other, and eventually how they become somewhat "avengers" in a more real-world anarchy type way. Because of the expansiveness of this world, we were debating how we could possibly fit everything into one giant singular stand-alone piece.

As an actor and writer, I have been taught that everything has a beginning, middle, and end. Although I have been lucky enough to learn that the order doesn't necessarily have to be chronological, I know every book has a first and last chapter. A film has an opening scene, and it ends with the credits (at least in the 21st century). Yes, there are prequels and sequels, but this way of art and storytelling has engrained us with a patriarchal perspective — stories have starts and stops. Life has beginnings and endings. There is birth, life, and, in finality, death.

As we slowly transition into spring, I invite you to let go of these finalities. Life is not a collection of scenes, nor chapters in a novel. There is more depth than what is shown on a screen or in a book — we experience 4D, meta-physical complexities that cannot be completely captured by words nor actions. Instead, through the inspiration of nature (our Mother Earth) and a matriarchal perspective, we can embody the art of transition and a cyclical way of living.

I am unsure if it's a general trend or if it's just showing up on my personal social media feeds, but I have been seeing a lot of content recently on how to align my eating habits and workouts with my menstrual cycle. I've been watching videos on what to eat to feel less fatigued during my luteal phase and how to maximize my workouts during the follicular phase. Understanding and accepting that my weeks and days change due to my hormones has allowed me to shift the way I approach each day.

One of the quotes on my 2026 inspiration board is, "Stick to the plan, not your mood." Due to this, I used to get so frustrated with myself if I was struggling to wake up even if I felt like I got enough sleep. I used to feel confused on why a simple workout sometimes felt like a hardcore marathon. Living cyclically doesn't fully mean doing whatever you feel, but it's an approach on how to live with more intention. It's the reason why some days feel harder than others. Diving into my personal cycle has allowed me to find balance in planning my days.

This all pertains to non-menstruating folks as well, don't worry. Nature itself is one big cycle. In many regions of the world, there are four distinct seasons: spring, summer, autumn/fall, and winter. On the first day of spring this year, I went on a winter cabin getaway to Vermont. The weather was still crisp and even snowy. In the simplest of explanations, just because spring started on our Gregorian calendar doesn't mean winter completely ended. The cold didn't say, "Oop it's time! No more chill, wind, and clouds!" In NYC, we have had some nice days recently, but yesterday was brisk. I still needed a sweater and my heavier coat.

There is no hard start and stop with our weather patterns. Days will begin to feel sunnier, but not all at once. Some people also say that spring is the transition into summer and fall is the transition into winter. No matter what, we always ease into the warmth and sun and then ebb and flow back into darker, cooler days.

So even if you don't have a personal hormonal cycle that dictates your entire life, the flow of Earth's energy shows that we live continuously through seasons that circle back into itself. Winter is about hibernation and rest, and spring is about new growth and life, but we cannot just jump out of our dwellings with an immediate energy of abundance. Seeds do not see the spring sun and leap into a flower. There is a moment of confusion, a slow awakening that then leads into an awareness, and then there is movement. Step-by-step, we thaw out of the ice and acclimate to what's coming next, and it's not new. Because it's a cycle, there is familiarity — a sense of calm during what could be a chaotic time of transition, but we as humans are naturally born with this cyclical sense. Transition is within us, and if you allow yourself to accept the in-between, you may feel less anxiety and more free.

My friend and I concluded that their movie could potentially capture a brief moment of the climax. If they were to develop their idea into a singular film, they would not be able to completely tell the whole story that they've developed. This is when I began reflecting on all of this nonsense about beginnings, middles, and ends.

As an actor and writer, I love movies and books. These art forms give us glimpses of new worlds and allow us to understand different perspectives. I have an incredible amount of respect and love for the field I've chosen to work in, but when I was thinking about my friend's movie, I said, "why not tell the middle of the story?" It may not explain where everyone came from and it won't dive into what happens next, but the story can still stand alone with all the movie components of a start and stop without the notion that this universe is done when the credits roll. Stories have a before and after even if they don't physically manifest it.

Transitions are not the most entertaining. No one cares to see a character drive to their next location, especially if they're driving from one explosive scene to the next. We as humans want action — a plot that goes forward, not pauses then goes back then inches up a bit and slowly but surely gets to its eventual purpose.

This spring, be a bit boring perhaps. Take your time getting to the next scene. Grow slowly into your next purpose. If winter was the end of your last chapter, stroll within the space before the next one. Think of yourself writing on blank pages, building and tearing and then building again until you come back to where you were before, only better.