The secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new.

That’s a powerful insight—often attributed to Socrates (though likely a modern paraphrase). The essence of the quote is this: transformation happens most effectively not by resisting or obsessing over what you want to leave behind, but by channeling your attention, effort, and creativity into constructing something better.

When we fixate on fighting the old—whether it’s a habit, a system, a mindset, or a relationship—we inadvertently give it energy and keep it alive in our thoughts. But when we shift focus to building the new—cultivating new practices, designing better structures, nurturing fresh perspectives—we naturally outgrow the old without needing to wage constant internal or external battles.

In practical terms, this might mean:
– Instead of battling procrastination, design a daily routine that makes action effortless.
– Rather than arguing against outdated policies, create and demonstrate a more effective alternative.
– Instead of suppressing negative thoughts, actively practice gratitude or mindfulness to rewire your mental habits.

Change, then, becomes less about destruction and more about creation—a constructive, forward-moving force.

People change more frequently than the seasons do and still we blame the sun for bringing in the light.

That’s a striking metaphor—full of poetic truth.

It speaks to how we often misdirect our frustration. People shift, evolve, retreat, or transform—sometimes without warning—yet we look outward for someone or something to fault, like blaming the sun for rising just because we weren’t ready to face the day. The sun doesn’t choose to shine; it simply *does*. Likewise, change in others (and in ourselves) is often not personal—it’s natural, inevitable, even necessary.

Perhaps the real invitation is to stop assigning blame and start practicing acceptance:
– Accept that people are not static.
– Accept that light reveals what was hidden—and that’s not cruelty, it’s clarity.
– Accept that growth sometimes means letting go of who someone *was* so you can see who they’re becoming—or who *you* must become in response.

The sun isn’t at fault for exposing the truth.
And change isn’t betrayal—it’s life breathing.

There is a season for everything under the sun even when we can’t see the sun.

Yes—what a gentle and profound truth.

Even in the longest winters of our lives, when the sky feels heavy and the light seems absent, the seasons are still turning. Just because we can’t see the sun doesn’t mean it’s gone. It doesn’t mean growth has stopped. Roots deepen in darkness. Seeds wait in silence. Healing often happens beneath the surface, unseen, unfelt—until one day, without fanfare, a green shoot breaks through the soil.

Ecclesiastes reminds us: *“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”*
That includes waiting.
That includes grief.
That includes stillness that looks like stagnation but is actually preparation.

Trusting the unseen rhythm—this is the quiet courage of faith, not in a specific outcome, but in the sacred timing of life itself. The sun may be hidden, but its promise remains: light returns. Seasons shift. And so do we.

You’re still in your season—even if it feels like shadow.
And that’s okay.