Keyword: flower

One thing I love about the Midwest is the seasons. Real ones. Not like those they claim to have elsewhere, so-called “winters” with an occasional snow flurry and temperatures that sometimes flirt below forty.

In Wisconsin, our seasons are pure, not pretenders. 

I like that, because it allows me to fully embrace the beauty and lessons of each one. It’s a reflection of life, which has distinct seasons, no matter where we live.  

If we’re honest, we’d prefer life to be one long, glorious summer, filled with sunshine and popsicles. But no. There are seasons of autumn, times for slowing down and saying goodbyes. And there are long winters of loneliness, where life feels frozen solid, and hope gets buried under a blanket of snow. 

Of course, spring always follows, but sometimes it seems to have overslept.

In Wisconsin, there is always a point when you’re pretty sure winter is over. 

Live here long enough, and you realize it’s not. 

There’s always one last gasp. One final snowstorm. One more cold snap that steals spring away, just as you were about to elope together on your way to summer.

That might be the most deflating, difficult part of winter: The moment when it appears it will never end, and you don’t know how much more you can take.

Life feels like that sometimes, when it seems like winter’s gonna win. 

Winter wins when it convinces us that nothing will ever change.

Winter wins when we let disappointment over unmet expectations turn into resentment.

Winter wins when we allow ourselves to be buried under a blanket of apathy.

Winter wins when we decide to give up and let the hope within us flicker out.

But it doesn’t have to get the final say.

This painting is a reminder that we can’t let winter win.

The 8-bit sunflower is reminiscent of a video game, because I think that’s a good way to think of it. When you’re in the middle of one of life’s winters, everything is heavy. Summer looks so far away. We see all the things that need to change for us to go from where we are to where we want to be, and it feels insurmountable. 

Sometimes the answer to the darkness that weighs down on us is a little levity. Making a game out of it is a way to rise above the life-and-death seriousness of our situation. It takes us ever-so-slightly outside ourselves to give us perspective that is a little wider than the restricted, optionless way winter can feel sometimes.

Part of what makes a game engaging and fun is that there is a challenge to it. But the key is for it to be a doable challenge. So instead of focusing on all the ways we are frozen in place and how many more days of winter are ahead, make a game out of finding even one tiny clue that spring is on its way. You don’t need to defeat the Final Boss and save the Princess; you just need to make it past this level. 

Today.

The game is this: Figure out how to win today.

It doesn’t have to be big.

It could be one five-minute prayer.

It could be getting dinner on the table.

It could be dumping the bottle of vodka down the drain.

It might just be getting out of bed.

Sometimes the win is just giving it one more day.

I’ve experienced many winters, especially in the early days of building our business. I once got some advice from a business colleague I’ve never forgotten. He, too, was an entrepreneur and knew how discouraging it was to feel like you made one step forward only to take three steps back. He shared a simple policy he lived by. On those really hard days, the days when he didn’t think he could go any further, he promised himself he’d give it one more day. He gave himself permission to abandon ship after that, but not before he gave it one more day.

Sure enough, the next day always brought some glint of hope, a new reason to believe. There was rarely any huge breakthrough that magically happened. Maybe it was a small sale. Maybe it was an encouraging word from a friend. Maybe it was just a good night’s sleep.  

Just a baby step forward.

We win when we find evidence that spring is on its way.

We win when hope bursts through a blanket of apathy.

We win when our resentment melts into acceptance.

We win when our panic gives way to patience.

We win when we bring light to someone else.

We win when we give it one more day.

Don’t let winter win.

Keep holding on for spring.