One Year, Five Seasons: A Personal Curriculum

December 21, 2025 - December 20, 2026

I don’t remember the exact year I started noticing the seasons. I grew up in San Diego, a partly cloudy, light-breezed wasteland with highs of 72 and lows of 68. For about two weeks each summer, it would reach 80 or 90+ degrees. Winter nights were cold, but not cold enough to warrant the heavy coats so many San Diegans wore when temperatures dropped to the 50s. Then I moved to Vegas, where it was oppressively hot for six months out of the year and bitterly bearable for the other six. Even when I moved to Colorado, where the leaves change and the snow sticks, I never quite noticed that each season had its own natural rhythm. I was oblivious.

In college, I took a course on neo-paganism to fulfill my world religion requirement. Something inside me woke up. Until that class, I hadn’t realized how much of my reality was shaped by external power structures–the patriarchy, an unhealthy relationship with “god,” complete disconnection from my body and the natural world. I had little agency and almost no self-worth. This single course revealed that I was not okay, and that recognition became the entry point for me to explore what empowerment could actually mean. Nothing’s more cringe than a repressed college student finding feminism and witchcraft but here we are.

I started to notice the moon before I noticed the change of seasons. I was living in Denver at the time, missing the ebb and flow of the Pacific tides. Somehow, I’d never intentionally looked at the phase of the moon during those early observations, but I was learning her cycle. I felt the energy in my body expand and contract between the full moon and new moon. 

By that time, I was terribly sick. I became disabled at 21 due to an autoimmune disease, and my then-boyfriend (now husband) pushed the idea that we should move to Denver. “It’s the middle of the country between our families”–he’s from New York–“they legalized weed, and there are trees,” he would repeat. And so we moved, away from my family and community. It was the perfect opportunity to explore the ideas I wasn’t allowed to explore. 

I deep-dived into my spirituality, alternative living, and holistic health. I was sick and depressed, and looking for meaning beyond my lived experience. My story is not novel, nor is it unique. But it’s mine. And as the world became bigger and my life became richer, I started to notice the natural shift of fall. The winds rose and the leaves fell. I noticed the quiet of winter and the sound of my boots crunching through snow. I noticed how spring was always a welcome change and summer was filled with social gatherings and rest. I was learning to pay attention. To notice. To be present with what was actually happening around me.

Then came the pandemic. The last five years have stretched my understanding of what it means to be healthy. What it means to be whole. My values have shifted, I’ve become a wife and mother, and now I’m training to practice Traditional Chinese Medicine. But what the seasons taught me in those early days of spiritual exploration has stuck. 

What started as an observation has transformed into a practice. These days, I'm drawn to different kinds of learning depending on the season. In winter, I crave introspection and deep inner work. Spring calls for movement and embodiment. Summer opens me to connection and joy. Autumn asks me to let go and reflect.

This intuitive understanding of seasonal living isn't just spiritual—it's medicine. Traditional Chinese Medicine recognizes five seasons: spring, summer, late summer, autumn, and winter, each with its own energetic quality, organ systems, and wisdom. This isn't coincidental. It's how we're designed to live. And for the next year, I'm aligning my learning with these natural rhythms through a personal curriculum.

This isn't about becoming an expert or proving anything. It's about showing up as a student–insatiably curious, authentically humble, willing to be changed by what I learn. I'll be sharing reflections, insights, and the messy process of learning throughout the year.

This is my commitment to that practice.

The curriculum starts on the Winter Solstice, December 21, 2025. Follow along as I explore new topics. Here’s what I’m getting into:

WINTER (Water Element) - December 21, 2025 to February 4, 2026

Going inward to understand the roots of power

Winter in TCM is the season of the Water element, governed by the Kidneys—the organs that store our deepest reserves of energy. This is the time for rest, reflection, and turning inward. While the world tells us to power through, to set resolutions and hustle harder, Water season asks us to descend into the depths.

I'm spending this winter exploring dreams, emotions, and personal power. Not the kind of power that dominates, but the kind that comes from within—from listening to what your unconscious is trying to tell you, from feeling your emotions fully instead of bypassing them, and from reclaiming the parts of yourself you've given away. This is foundational work. You can't build outward if you haven't gone inward first.

SPRING (Wood Element) - February 4 to June 21, 2026

Embodiment, sacred rage, and decentering capitalism

Spring brings the Wood element and the Liver—the organ responsible for the smooth flow of Qi throughout the body. When Liver Qi is stagnant, we feel irritable, stuck, frustrated. When it flows freely, we feel alive, flexible, capable of growth.

This spring, I'm exploring what it means to be truly embodied—to live in my body rather than just using it. I'm studying somatic practices, learning to work with sacred rage (the kind that sets boundaries and demands change), and examining how economic systems that prioritize profit over people and planet have disconnected us from our inherent worth. Spring is about planting seeds of self-worth that aren't tied to productivity, achievement, or how much we produce. It's about movement, expression, and healthy anger that creates change.

SUMMER (Fire Element) - June 21 to August 15, 2026

Divine feminine wisdom and women's healing

Summer embodies the Fire element, governed by the Heart. This is the season of joy, connection, and outward expression. The Heart houses the Shen (our spirit), and in summer, that spirit wants to play, celebrate, and connect.

I'm spending this summer exploring the divine feminine across cultures—goddesses, female deities, women healers throughout history. This isn't just academic study; it's about reconnecting with a lineage that's been suppressed, dismissed, and erased. From Guanyin to ancient midwives to the women practicing medicine in the shadows, summer asks: What wisdom have we lost by silencing women's voices? And how do we reclaim it? I plan to study women's health as sacred rather than pathological.

LATE SUMMER (Earth Element) - August 15 to September 22, 2026

Food as medicine, sovereignty, and reconnecting with the earth

Late Summer is the season of Earth—the Spleen and Stomach, the organs of digestion and transformation. This is the pivot point between the expansiveness of summer and the contraction of fall. Earth season is about nourishment, grounding, and how we care for ourselves and each other.

I'm exploring food as medicine across TCM, Ayurveda, and decolonized nutrition. But more than that, I'm asking: Who controls our food systems? What does it mean to be disconnected from the land that feeds us? How do we reclaim food sovereignty—not just individually, but collectively? Late Summer asks us to examine how we nourish our bodies, our communities, and our relationship to the earth itself.

AUTUMN (Metal Element) - September 22 to December 21, 2026

Death, grief, and transformation

Autumn brings the Metal element—the Lungs and Large Intestine. This is the season of letting go, of release, of what we keep and what we compost. Metal asks: What needs to die for transformation to happen?

I'm spending this season examining power structures and systems that need to die—economic structures that estrange us from our inherent worth and the natural world, colonialism and white supremacy, the medical industrial complex. I'm sitting with grief, both personal and collective, climate grief, and ancestral grief. And I'm exploring communal practices for collective healing. Because transformation isn't just personal; it's communal. As the year draws to a close, autumn asks: What are we building as the old world dies? How do we hold each other through transformation?

This is an invitation to learn alongside me. Subscribe to follow the journey, or explore your own seasonal curriculum. The work is in the practice.

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A quick disclaimer: I'm currently a TCM student and herbalist-in-training. Everything I share here is for educational purposes only—this is my space to explore what I'm learning, integrate new knowledge, and build community. Nothing in my posts should be taken as medical advice or used to diagnose, treat, or prevent any health condition. If something resonates with you, wonderful—but please consult with licensed healthcare professionals for your individual health needs.