A Seasonal Existence.

A Seasonal Existence.

Community Most Popular Posts Motivation + Inspiration

I live in the seasons now, the highs and the lows. And I’ve learned what I love and what I loathe. What makes me fly high and what makes me forget myself entirely.

LA is famous for 72 And Sunny

How pleasant it is always.

But I know the truth:

How often we forget in the pleasantries how nice it actually is.

How we learn a general Good and forget a personal Great.

Without the comparison, we don’t have to choose.

Without the differences, we have nothing to miss.

I live in the seasons now,

the highs and the lows

And I’ve learned what I love and what I loathe

What makes me fly high

and what makes me forget myself entirely.

A seasonal existence allows me to retreat when I need to and expand when I must

Instead of feeling as if I should be everything to everyone.


in my Springs I am both everything and nothing

a damp rain one day, a warm sunrise the next

a cool breeze and a warm lilt

skipping and splashing in puddles from the sunshower

i bloom with ideas along with the flowers.

in my Summers I take in the world, the heat, the sun

absorbing it on my bare skin

and sometimes it feels all too much

and sometimes I feel smothered when I walk out the door

the sights

the sounds

the glasses clinking in the distance and the ice cream melting onto the sidewalk

my Summer is one that absorbs all the stimuli and like the leaves turn the excess sunshine to energy and exhaust

i take the blinding brightness and morph it into my mission statement.

in my Autumns I dance with the leaves

letting my truest colors show

reds, yellows, a not-quite-green but not-quite-chocolate

the blisters from the Summer morphing into tangible things and scenes and the perfect day all day.

in my Winters I balance

the retreat and the release


i radiate heat and fire and steam built up from months of absorbing

months of elements

months of matches lit and furnaces burning

warming those who forgot to take the year with them

i wonder if this is why it’s called the Season of Giving.

My place in the seasons isn't in a dull everywhere, But a specific SOMEWHERE. Click To Tweet

Here’s the thing.

I am a strong force.

My place in the seasons isn’t in a dull everywhere

But a specific SOMEWHERE.

And in that memorable place,

I sway and I sigh,

I swelter and I swoon.

And while I might not be a favorite to all,

I leave those who Know cracked open in delight

Wondering when I’ll come around again

And counting the moments until I do.

Remember last time, they say,

Remember when she opened my cage and set me free?


katie horwitch seasonal
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i am grateful.

i am grateful.

Community Love Motivation + Inspiration Shift Of Power

i am grateful for the discomfort

the wonderful blissful discomfort that keeps me squirming on questions

i am grateful for the questions, the asking, the search. the way my mind cannot sit still and tells stories like a choose-your-own-ending mystery book

i loved those.

i am grateful for the search and the stories

for they keep me away from the escape routes and the complacency and the “it’s just how life is”

because really, nothing ever is Just How Life Is. what a cop-out!

there is ALWAYS a search, ALWAYS a question, ALWAYS  a brilliant mystery that can’t really be objectively solved, because the solution is in the choice and lord knows we’ve got a chapter book’s worth of those.

i know no answers and i know no endings. i do not know how to just forget you or start over fresh or blank my slate or speak without ellipses…

everything is linked and my sense of time is majorly skewed for someone too young to blur it all together. 20something years seems like yesterday and i can still feel the hurt when my preschool teacher told me to stop staring at the drawings hung up on the wall (that, side note, I drew) and get in line with the other kids.

i would hurt over EVERYTHING, and i don’t really know why i remember it all.

i remember the sights of my classrooms, the fantastical laundry chute in my best friend’s house, the Calvin Klein hand lotion my second grade teacher kept on her desk, that i stole pill-sized drops of because the floral scent made me feel like I was part of the adult world. i remember walking around the hospital gift shop with my grandmother while waiting to visit my new baby brother – she bought me a fancy doll I picked out in a white wedding gown. I didn’t pick her because she was a bride. i picked her because, obviously, she was the prettiest one there and, obviously, the only one who had her shit together to make herself look like a sophisticated classy lady. all the others were in cheesy kids clothes.

i am so grateful for my age and this feeling i have that i don’t belong. let me be ageless! let me be the misfit, the odd girl out, the one who knows she is mortal and time is limited but really doesn’t get freaked out because she knows we have all the time we need, no more, no less.
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let me bask in this aloneness, this beautiful weirdo of a soul that uncontrollably loves and lives such an unbridled passionate existence that it sometimes hurts. i was a 56 hour labor. i mean, what baby takes 56 hours to say What Up? this one right here. i’m convinced it was because of the love i already possessed; the fear that if i was separated from my mother that i wouldn’t be secure in that love any more. i loved her so much i could not bear the thought of being apart. i think that was it.
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and here I am, twentysomething years later. what up. still in a state of wonderment and still loving so furiously that i can never separate myself from it. it kicks me in the ass when i have obligations i cannot fulfill or when i make a call a day too late or reach out when i already know there will be no response.

but how grateful am I that it’s not the response that keeps me alive?
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how grateful am I that I see the moment and the nuance and the twinkle that ultimately makes up the mosaic of my bigger-picture self?

how grateful am i for the void that i never ever want to go away because it holds me in the brilliant discomfort of not knowing…

I Am Grateful: An Unexpected Note Of Gratitude. Click To Tweet