There is a subtle narrative, a saying passed down from our elders that lingers in my memory: “Every spring is a beginning.” Perhaps it is because of these words that we all find joy in the spring, expecting and hoping for new perspectives and fresh starts. Yet, to me, this saying has always felt incomplete. If this spring is merely about the “new,” then what was I to do with my disappointments and my exhaustion? Was I supposed to erase them? Wouldn’t that be a form of self-destruction? After all, isn’t it the boxes that always leads us to destruction? Aimless gazes, flat perceptions, and the rigid black and white that leaves no room for gray.

​In my belief, every departure entails a return—much like nature itself. Just as nothing in nature can exist without its opposite; as there is no absence without presence, no leaving without arriving, and no winter without summer, how could nature exist solely through “newness”? How can a beginning exist without an end? Literature and mythology have a name for this; they offer a symbol for it. It is the shape of a cycle that carries a beautiful narrative of both the end and infinity: the spiral.

​The esteemed Carl G. Jung explains this profoundly. For him, the spiral is not a hollow repetition, but a rhythm of return and renewal. In other words, Jung describes a way of life that is not about wandering in circles, nor simply existing as a plain beginning. It is a perspective that beautifully explains the human mind and the cycle of life as they truly are.

​What I mean to say is that spring is much like a spiral. It is a cycle that directs us inward, promising both the beginning and the end within itself. Life resembles a spiral; it is a winding path rather than a straight line. As we revolve, surpassing the seasons and blooming once more, we do not return to the same spot. Instead, we descend into our own spring with a brighter, deeper, and more vivid awareness.