<p>Living in Riyadh, we’ve just emerged from the peak of summer, where temperatures soar to nearly 50°C, making outdoor activity nearly impossible. As September arrives, the weather begins to ease, but the real winter arrives only by mid-November. I have lived in the Middle East now for more than 15 years and by all means should have been acclimatised. Yet, the impatient part of me wonders year after year—why couldn’t summer disappear a bit earlier and winter come in a bit sooner?</p>.<p>Then I paused to reflect. Nature doesn’t rush. It moves in slow cycles, indifferent to our impatience, yet full of wisdom for those who observe. The transition from summer to winter doesn’t happen overnight; it unfolds gradually, minute by minute, day by day. And in that quiet persistence lies a profound lesson. A number of times we feel like a particular month or a year or even a single day is a drag, yet decades pass by in a blink of an eye, and therein lies the amazing paradox of nature.</p>.<p>Often, when we’re stuck in difficult phases, we act hastily, trying to force change. If that does not happen, we consult an astrologer who suggests a solution which often coincides with a turn in the cycle for the better! But just like the seasons, life also moves in cycles.</p>.<p>Few experiences teach you more about life’s highs and lows than cycling through mountainous terrain. I was a cyclist and experienced it firsthand. The upwards sloping road is a drag, while the downward sloping one is a breeze. And this repeats in cycles over a long cycling route, pretty much like the undulations we face in real life. With patience and equanimity, even the harshest periods pass, giving way to renewal.</p>.<p>Take the amazing case of the giant redwood tree native to California. They are the largest trees in the world and native to groves of the Sierra Nevada mountain range of California. Some of these trees live for more than four thousand years. During a recent visit to a museum in Washington, I stood in awe before the massive trunk of one such tree, which was around three thousand years old. These trees grow slowly over a number of years, reaching majestic heights and growing massively in width. Contrast that with our desire to double our money in three months. While that may be unrealistic, what is possible is multiplying wealth manyfold—if we have the discipline to wait it out for a long time and resist the urge to tamper with our investments in moments of market volatility anxiety.</p>.<p>Nature teaches us that enduring growth is never rushed. It’s cultivated with patience, resilience, and time.</p><p>(Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.)</p>
<p>Living in Riyadh, we’ve just emerged from the peak of summer, where temperatures soar to nearly 50°C, making outdoor activity nearly impossible. As September arrives, the weather begins to ease, but the real winter arrives only by mid-November. I have lived in the Middle East now for more than 15 years and by all means should have been acclimatised. Yet, the impatient part of me wonders year after year—why couldn’t summer disappear a bit earlier and winter come in a bit sooner?</p>.<p>Then I paused to reflect. Nature doesn’t rush. It moves in slow cycles, indifferent to our impatience, yet full of wisdom for those who observe. The transition from summer to winter doesn’t happen overnight; it unfolds gradually, minute by minute, day by day. And in that quiet persistence lies a profound lesson. A number of times we feel like a particular month or a year or even a single day is a drag, yet decades pass by in a blink of an eye, and therein lies the amazing paradox of nature.</p>.<p>Often, when we’re stuck in difficult phases, we act hastily, trying to force change. If that does not happen, we consult an astrologer who suggests a solution which often coincides with a turn in the cycle for the better! But just like the seasons, life also moves in cycles.</p>.<p>Few experiences teach you more about life’s highs and lows than cycling through mountainous terrain. I was a cyclist and experienced it firsthand. The upwards sloping road is a drag, while the downward sloping one is a breeze. And this repeats in cycles over a long cycling route, pretty much like the undulations we face in real life. With patience and equanimity, even the harshest periods pass, giving way to renewal.</p>.<p>Take the amazing case of the giant redwood tree native to California. They are the largest trees in the world and native to groves of the Sierra Nevada mountain range of California. Some of these trees live for more than four thousand years. During a recent visit to a museum in Washington, I stood in awe before the massive trunk of one such tree, which was around three thousand years old. These trees grow slowly over a number of years, reaching majestic heights and growing massively in width. Contrast that with our desire to double our money in three months. While that may be unrealistic, what is possible is multiplying wealth manyfold—if we have the discipline to wait it out for a long time and resist the urge to tamper with our investments in moments of market volatility anxiety.</p>.<p>Nature teaches us that enduring growth is never rushed. It’s cultivated with patience, resilience, and time.</p><p>(Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.)</p>
