by Melanie Gruenwald
This time of year is always full of beginnings and endings—beginning of the school year, job changes, the turning of seasons. But this year, change feels sharper, closer to the bone.
My husband has taken a job in another state. My twins are beginning their senior year of high school. Our home feels like it’s in a constant state of motion, people coming and going, calendars filling, hearts stretching.
And yet… through it all, I am finding a peaceful groundedness.
(Maybe its my 6am yoga classes?))
I also think it is because I am appreciating the moments. Holding onto present-moment awareness. Not wishing time away. Not clinging to the past or fast-forwarding into the future.
There’s so much to look forward to, and yet, now is all that matters.
Last night I re-read old blog posts from nearly ten years ago, when my son, Koby, was ill. Back then, I had to live in the moment. There was no other choice. Every day was its own universe—full of love, uncertainty, exhaustion, hope.
Reading those words now, with the distance of time, I felt again the rawness, the clarity, the intensity of highs and lows. It reminded me that the practice of being present is something we can lose if we’re not careful—and something we can always choose to reclaim.
This year’s changes—my husband’s new chapter, my children’s approaching launch into the world, the deepening of our relationships—are different from that earlier chapter of crisis. But in both seasons, the lesson is the same:
Transformation begins in the present moment.
In Kabbalah, we explore the concept of tsimtsum, the way the “creator” withdrew into His or Herself, to create space or expanding our emptiness to make room for growth– giving birth to something else. In all parts of life, we also need to create space (get out of our own way sometimes!) for creation to occur. Every ending returns us, for a moment, to the void—where identity, certainty, and form dissolve. And from that emptiness, the seeds of the next chapter take root.
The Sefirot (Tree of Life) remind us that creation is not linear. We move between realms—vision, emotion, action—constantly rebalancing. When we honor where we are, instead of rushing to where we think we should be, we allow each sefirah—each energy—to fully express itself.
Right now, I am dwelling in Tiferet—beauty in the balance of what is ending and what is beginning. I am learning that groundedness is not about everything staying the same. It’s about finding the still point in the turning world.
My truth is: every moment is both an ending and a beginning. The only question is—will we pay attention enough to notice?
If you’re navigating your own season of transition—whether joyful, painful, or both—may you find the courage to be here, now. To trust the wisdom of your own unfolding.
Because this moment, just as it is, is enough.
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