The light has changed. It is a subtle shift at first — a lengthening of the evening, a sharpening of the green on the hillsides — but suddenly we find ourselves standing on the threshold where spring gives way to summer.

On our island, this transition isn’t just a page turning on a calendar, it is a profound shift in the collective rhythm of our lives. We feel it in the sudden quiet of the school zones as the academic year ends, and in the mix of pride and anxiety hanging over our graduating seniors as they prepare to step into a wider world.

We feel it on the docks which come alive with the urgent, mechanical poetry of a new fishing season spinning into motion.

Everywhere we look, structure is dissolving into something new.

Transitions of this scale can feel jarring. When everything moves at once, it is easy to look backward with a sudden, sharp pang of regret. We watch our graduates and think of the choices we made at their age.

We look at the upcoming season and worry about the unknowns.

It is during these times of high-stakes shifting that a poignant piece of wisdom from an unknown author is essential to remember: “Forgive your past self for the choices they made when they were just trying to survive. Gently remind them that you are safe now, and thank them for getting you to where you are.”

This isn’t just a comforting sentiment, it’s a practical blueprint for navigating change, one that aligns beautifully with Buddhist insights on the nature of existence.

At the heart of Buddhist psychology are two inseparable truths: impermanence and interdependent co-arising.

Impermanence reminds us that change is not a disruption of life; change IS life. Spring must yield to summer for the salmon to run, just as childhood must yield to adulthood for a young person to truly find their footing. Resistance to this flow is where our suffering hides. When we fight the transition, we are demanding that the river stand still.

But it is the concept of interdependence that teaches us how to look backward with mercy. Buddhism teaches that nothing exists in a vacuum. Every decision we made in our past was entirely dependent on the conditions of that moment — our level of maturity, our emotional resources, the pressures we faced, and what we logically knew at the time.

The person you were five, 10 or 30 years ago did not possess the map you hold today. They were navigating the fog with the tools they had. To judge that past self using the wisdom you only acquired because of those past struggles is a profound injustice to your own journey.

That version of you survived the winter so that you could stand in the summer sun today. They deserve your gratitude, not your condemnation.

As the seniors leave the halls of the high school behind, they are bound to make mistakes. They will look back in a few years and wonder why they didn’t know better. Our fishermen, too, will face seasons of unpredictable waters, adapting in real time to conditions they couldn’t foresee.

As a community, we can mirror the changing season by practicing this elegant forgiveness. Let’s look at our past versions — and the evolving versions of the young people next door — with the warmth of the returning sun.

The transition is happening, whether we are ready or not. The best we can do is thank the ground that brought us here, trust the tools we have built, and step boldly into the light of the new season.