The Privilege of Transformation

Spring arrives not with a shout, but with a slow, seductive whisper. Bud by bud, ray by ray, it unspools a symphony of renewal. And yet, alongside this natural metamorphosis, we may find ourselves stuck in a loop of guilt, exhaustion, and a need to “do more.” Funnily, this exasperating spiral makes it easy to forget the elephant in the room. How lucky we are to have the space to contemplate these worries – to even have the time to ponder our own productivity. Overthinking replaces pure action, and the spiral ensues. Welcome to the paradox of privilege and toxic productivity in the season of change.

In May, I observed countless scenes of couples swaying hand-in-hand, flocks of friends skipping (class), parks so full the green grass is swallowed by crowds. At our feet, the first daffodil cracks the concrete like hope finding its way through cynicism. I feel both joy and shame. What a privilege to slow down, to walk aimlessly, to notice the daffodil. What a privilege to be unproductive.

In this Western world of ours that worships self-optimization, slowing down can feel like betrayal. Spring, once a metaphor for rebirth and soft awakenings, has become yet another excuse to re-strategize our calendars. The sun shines, and instead of taking a minute to bask in its presence, we wonder: “Am I doing enough?”. We weaponize warmth into fuel for further hustle – clean harder, work longer, run faster.

But Spring’s most radical offering is not more productivity. It’s the permission to pause.

When I brought this up in my circle, two friends of mine produced two opposing perspectives on the matter:

Friend 1: “I feel exhausted. I can’t stop doing

things I feel I ought to be doing. It feels like I’m wasting time if I just allow myself to follow my own routine.”

Friend 2: “Just do what you want. What’s the

worst that could happen?”

Why does it matter? It matters entirely. Because toxic productivity is a system that feeds on our insecurity and weaponizes time. The privilege of rejecting it (of not needing to “earn” your rest) is not available to everyone. For Spring is not a respite, but a reminder. A contrast between how it should be and how it (actually) is

.

Some are lucky enough to sit in cafés, sipping coffees and spritzes until the sun sets. Others, even in Spring, toil endlessly, untouched by the comfort of leisure. One person’s lazy walk is another’s daydream.

Still, the flower grows. And perhaps that is the miracle. Seeing the city burst into life with the vibrant colours of flower petals have always made me emotional. Seeing such delicate flora thrive against the background of the concrete jungle begs for protection and care, but also shows their resilience. Like a celebration, petals thickly

cover the ground like frosting on a birthday cake. They don’t ask for permission to bloom. They don’t feel guilty about doing “nothing” but growing. What if we, too, gave ourselves that grace?

It’s a hard sell in a culture obsessed with becoming. We chase “Selbstverwirklichung”, or self-actualisation, as if it resides at the peak of a mountain only the busiest can ascend to. as if it lives at the summit of a mountain only the busiest can climb. But what if metamorphosis is not about climbing, but fortifying? I’m talking about rooting oneself into the very ground we stand on, the dynamic nutrients we’re made of.

What if it’s about softening into the truth that we are always changing, whether or not we try? Toxic productivity tells us we are only worth what we produce. Spring disagrees.

To simply notice – the inviting tug of the warm sun – the giggle of a toddler, the bud that wasn't there yesterday – is its own kind of resistance. In a society that insists on speed, noticing is revolutionary. A flower, after all, doesn't bloom to meet a deadline. It does so when it’s ready.

And there you go. It’s perfect, and it’s dying

already. But it doesn't worry about its

usefulness. It simply is – fragile, fleeting, honest. So maybe the point of Spring isn’t to emerge with a new plan or a better version of yourself.

Maybe the point is to re-enter life with a little more tenderness. To recognize, that the opportunity to even contemplate one’s purpose in life, to even take that walk with no destination, is a gift. Not everyone gets to metamorphose on their own terms.

This season, I offer no resolution. Just a suggestion: look outside. Let the soft wildness of the world interrupt your task list. Let it remind you that existing, breathing, noticing – these things are enough.

Happy Spring. Might be worth pausing for the next blossom…