Preparing for What Comes

Finding Balance Between Planning and Trust

There are things I have learned to do before winter arrives.

Making sure there is enough firewood for the coming season, perhaps even the next. Checking whether my daughter has outgrown her winter clothes. Protecting garden plants that aren’t quite suited to our growing zone. Taking care of things that are much easier now than when the ground is frozen, and the snow is deep.

As I grow older, I notice how much experience informs these decisions.

I remember previous winters. What I needed, what I wished I had prepared earlier, and what turned out not to matter quite as much as I thought.

Much of this preparation has become second nature. It isn’t driven by a particular fear of winter. It comes from knowing that winter will arrive and that some things are simply easier to take care of beforehand.

And still, no two winters are quite the same. There is always something we cannot anticipate.

The Squirrel and the Spruce Cones

I find something remarkable about this.

The squirrel cannot change the approaching season. It cannot persuade the spruce trees to continue producing cones throughout the winter. Nor can it know precisely how cold the coming months will be.

But it can make use of what is available now.

In a sense, its activity is shaped not only by present conditions but also by the seasonal changes ahead.

And that is something we humans have learned to do, too.

We remember. We recognize patterns. We anticipate likely needs and make provisions while we still have the resources and opportunities to do so.

Experience can become a form of foresight.

When Growth Is No Longer the Purpose

There is another aspect of the squirrel’s preparation that I find worth considering.

During autumn, the squirrel may be exceptionally active. But all this activity serves a particular purpose: gathering resources that will sustain it through the seasons ahead.

It is not about producing more and more indefinitely.

The forest itself offers countless examples of changing rhythms. Trees stop extending their branches and prepare their tissues for freezing temperatures. Some animals migrate. Others store food, grow thicker coats, or reduce their activity.

Different organisms respond differently, but none can simply ignore the conditions in which they live.

This brings me to a question I have carried for many years.

Why do we expect continuous growth from our economies, organizations, and often ourselves?

We tend to speak about economic growth as something that must continue, year after year. Businesses are encouraged to expand, improve productivity, increase output, and achieve more.

And as individuals, we can absorb similar expectations.

We should continually improve ourselves, advance our careers, develop new skills, become more productive, and make better use of our time.

Of course, growth is not inherently a problem. It can create opportunities, improve living conditions, and support meaningful development.

But I wonder what happens when growth becomes an expectation rather than a response to actual needs and circumstances.

What happens when maintaining what we have, restoring depleted resources, or simply having enough is no longer recognized as progress?

A forest does not produce new growth at the same rate throughout the year. There are periods of expansion, maturation, preparation, and relative inactivity.

Each has its place.

Perhaps we need a broader understanding of what it means to be doing well.

One that includes not only growth and achievement, but also maintenance, recovery, resilience, and sufficiency.

When Is Preparation Enough?

Of course, there is a difference between a squirrel storing cones and a person planning for the future.

Squirrels do not sit down to reflect on whether they have prepared enough or whether their efforts are motivated by anxiety.

We do.

And perhaps this is where preparation becomes more complicated for us. Because once we begin thinking about the future, we can imagine almost endless possibilities.

What if this happens? What if that doesn’t work out? What if I need more than I have? What if I overlook something important?

Preparation, which initially helps us respond to uncertainty, can become an attempt to eliminate it.

And there is no end to the things we might try to anticipate.

More savings. More plans. More qualifications. More safeguards. More information.

Some of these may be genuinely useful.

But how do we distinguish what is reasonably needed from what we pursue because we are uncomfortable with not knowing?

I don’t think there is one answer that works for everyone.

Our resources, responsibilities, and circumstances differ. What feels sufficient to one person may be precarious for another. And sometimes, the challenge isn’t a lack of personal foresight, but the conditions in which people are expected to live or work.

Still, I find it helpful to ask:

Am I preparing for something I reasonably expect to need, or am I trying to make an uncertain future feel certain?

That question doesn’t always change what I do.

But it can change the place from which I act.

This is also an important aspect of self-leadership: recognizing what is within our influence, making thoughtful choices, and learning to live with what we cannot control.

Preparing, Then Trusting

Over time, I have come to appreciate that wise preparation includes knowing when to stop.

I can make sure there is firewood. I can protect vulnerable plants. I can take care of practical things while the weather still allows it.

And then? – Winter will come.

Perhaps it will be unusually mild. Perhaps there will be storms, unexpected difficulties, or circumstances that require a response I haven’t yet considered.

No amount of preparation can remove every uncertainty. But I don’t believe it needs to.

There is another resource we carry into the future, one that cannot be neatly stacked, stored, or counted.

Our capacity to respond.

The experience we have gathered, the skills we have developed, the relationships we can draw upon, and the ability to notice what is happening and adjust accordingly.

Trusting that capacity doesn’t mean assuming everything will work out exactly as we hope. Nor does it mean believing we should be able to manage everything alone.

It means recognizing that we don’t need to have every answer before the question arises.

We can prepare thoughtfully, make use of what is available, and remain open to what the future actually brings.

Perhaps that, too, is a form of wisdom learned over many seasons.

To prepare for what we can reasonably foresee, and then trust ourselves to meet what we cannot.

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Resources & Further Reading

Red Squirrel — Government of Yukon

An introduction to the red squirrel’s life in northern forests, including its autumn cone gathering, territorial behaviour, and winter food stores.

Red Squirrel Middens Influence Abundance but Not Diversity of Other Vertebrates — National Library of Medicine

An ecological research article exploring how red squirrel food caches, known as middens, influence forest habitats and other animals.

Growth Without Economic Growth — European Environment Agency

A reflection on the relationship between economic growth, environmental pressures, and our understanding of progress. It invites us to consider whether prosperity and wellbeing must always depend on producing and consuming more.

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*A note on ecological accuracy — University of Alaska: Red squirrels may collect thousands of cones and continue accumulating stores beyond their immediate winter needs. The idea of consciously deciding when enough is enough is therefore a human reflection inspired by the squirrel, not a literal interpretation of its behaviour.

Seasonal Connection

As autumn progresses toward winter, the natural world reveals many different ways of responding to changing conditions.

Red squirrels gather and store food. Migratory birds travel to regions where resources remain available. Trees gradually increase their tolerance to freezing temperatures. Other animals develop thicker coats, seek shelter, or reduce their activity.

There is no single strategy that works for every organism.

What they share is a responsiveness to the conditions in which they live.

And perhaps that is one of the most important lessons nature offers us about sustainability.

Living sustainably does not mean maintaining the same pace, level of activity, or direction of growth throughout our lives. It means recognizing when circumstances call for something different.

Sometimes that means growing and expanding. Sometimes it means gathering, conserving, maintaining, or resting.

Each has its place.

Related reflections

What Now? The Choice That Is Always Ours (Week 42) —  connecting present choices with future preparation.

Finding Your Autumn Pace (Week 39) — Connecting sustainable action with responsiveness to changing conditions.

Reader Take-away

What can I reasonably prepare for now—and what will I need to trust myself to handle when the time comes?

Think of one thing you know is likely to require your attention in the coming weeks or months.

What small action could you take now, while you still have the time, resources, or opportunity?

Then consider what remains outside your control.

What would it mean to trust your capacity to respond when the time comes?

The invitation is not to prepare for everything. It is to prepare thoughtfully—and recognize when you have done what you reasonably can.