High in the branches of an ancient tree, two birds sit—one restless, tasting the bittersweet fruits of life, the other silent, witnessing all.

And so, too, do we find ourselves caught in the cycles of existence—sometimes grasping at pleasure, sometimes resisting discomfort. But what happens when we, like the second bird, become still? When we simply witness?

Now, in this season of transition, as the sun climbs higher in the sky, and the spring full moon illuminates the earth in abundance, nature itself offers us a lesson. Just as the seasons shift from the stillness of winter to the awakening of spring, we are reminded that life moves in rhythms, in cycles, in ever-unfolding change.

And just as the season turns, so too does our journey through the Yoga Sutras reach its final steps. These are the last three sutras of our exploration together—a completion, a culmination, a moment to celebrate. Yet, just as every ending is also a beginning, I do not know what comes next. And that, in itself, is something to honor—to stand at the threshold of the unknown with curiosity, openness, and trust.

Yoga Sutra 4.32 speaks to this truth. Patanjali tells us that when we cease to be controlled by external fluctuations, we realign with our true nature. When we stop resisting the movement of life—be it the waxing and waning of the moon, the changing of the seasons, or the rise and fall of emotions—we return to the eternal witness within.

This is the invitation of spring: to awaken, to release what is no longer needed, to stand in the growing light not as the restless bird chasing life, but as the silent witness, steady and free.

As Taoist master Lao Tzu once said:
“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”

So, let us celebrate this moment—not as an end, but as a doorway. Let us step forward not knowing what comes next, but trusting that whatever unfolds, we are ready.