The 4 Seasons In Me

Summary

The poem "The 4 Seasons In Me" reflects on the importance of living in the present and embracing the full spectrum of life's experiences without yearning for the future or being attached to the past.

Abstract

The poem "The 4 Seasons In Me" by Anthi Psomiadou is a contemplative piece that uses the metaphor of the four seasons to explore the depth of human emotions and the cyclical nature of life. The author expresses a profound understanding that each season, like each moment in life, has its unique flavor and purpose. By staying present and attuned to the current moment, the poet finds a connection with the eternal, suggesting that the ephemeral can become eternal through internal attention. The poem cautions against the trap of chasing the future or resisting the present, as this leads to instability and dissatisfaction. Instead, it advocates for embracing the now, recognizing that everything comes at the right time, and aligning with life's rhythm without hunting time or being swayed by external conditions.

Opinions

The author believes in the significance of embracing the present moment, as it holds the key to a fulfilling life.
There is a critique of the modern tendency to be preoccupied with the future, which can lead to a lack of appreciation for the present.
The poem suggests that internal focus and acceptance of the current season of life lead to a more stable and content existence.
The poet emphasizes the dangers of distraction and the false sense of satisfaction that comes from constantly seeking new experiences.
The text conveys a sense of wonder and gratitude for the present, likening it to an elixir that sustains the soul.
There is an acknowledgment that life's moments, like the seasons, are transient yet hold an intrinsic eternal quality when one is fully present.

I don’t put myself on the waiting list for buying the future

It’s like I’ve swallowed the 4 seasons and I know what are the reasons; It’s for me to be in touch with every now, not asking more than that. Somehow the ephemeral is also eternal when attention’s direction becomes internal. The “menu” in me, has all the flavors; I dredge up each time the more suitable of the “tools”. If I whine because of the winter and I ask for something different, then I deny the role it plays and that’s how euphoria always sways, slipping from fingers, and that somehow empties me because of automated dragging by “running”. Feeding the false non-satisfaction, being enslaved by distraction; Oh my god, what a trap! Please self, don’t fall for that. Focusing in, inhaling the moment; focusing in, exhaling what was meant. There’s no delay; everything comes on time. It wasn’t to happen before or after. Vibrating on the same frequency with life, holding hands with it, not hunting time. Time doesn’t run, it just is here, and when I act motionlessly, its meaning re-appears. Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter; Four different forms of the same cycle. I stand on the fourth now, not being tuned in to the next one; I don’t put myself on the waiting list for buying the future. Because when I did that, my inner axis was often unstable, and the outside conditions, here and there were taking me. Oh dear Now, what an elixir I drink from your hands! I sense it running in my veins, regardless of what I see with my eyes.

Anthi Psomiadou — CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 International : Credit must be given to the creator/ Only noncommercial uses of the work are permitted/ No derivatives

Here’s is a poem I like a lot, written by one of my favorite fellow-writers on Medium, James G Brennan

The 4 Seasons In Me

I don’t put myself on the waiting list for buying the future

Fortunes

Free verse