Nadira Martin – September 15, 2026
Here in Charlotte, North Carolina, it feels as though summer is never ending. And it has been extremely HOT. Where is Autumn? Is she around, does she even go here? While the heat has been constant outside, these past few months have housed multiple seasons of the soul. Let us recap: we have experienced a very cold winter, followed by Winter: The (W)reckoning. Then came a brief spring that had me thinking, “This might be spring, but I’m pretty sure it’s still winter.” Then came summer for two weeks, a strange autumn, followed by… you guessed it: WINTER!
I am sure, by now, you are thinking “Nadira! How have you made it through the frigid temperatures of a frozen nervous system, emotions even the sun could not warm, and the paradoxical state of the environment that the coldest blooded of creatures would beg for reprieve from?” The answer is: neuroplasticity, aka learning.
June brought about a transition from graduating community college into a 4-year institution. Yes, I took class over the summer. Little did I know how much it would calm the non-cyclical weather patterns of my mind, thawing the winter(s) frost. When things are less than ideal, the go-to action for many is nothing. Sit and let the brain “rest.” Rest inevitably becomes stagnation and a chronic headache. Having to focus took the healing process to the next level. Instead of rumination, I had to read, write, and reach academic goals. It helped that I was very interested in the subject—Biopsychology.
Each new concept learned equaled an increase in synaptic pathways for my thoughts to meander along. It was not always easy, however. There were days stuck staring at a blank page, words unwilling to form. Moments of overwhelm from the sheer amount of coursework to cover in a rapidly diminishing amount of time. Yet, I persevered and my mind woke up.
Learning helps to rewire the brain. Pruning pathways that no longer serve, sending stimuli in more favorable directions. It brings about curiosity—of yourself, others, the world around and beyond. So, why is it that we tend to cease learning? All of a sudden we think we have learned everything there is to know:
“I don’t need to try anything new.”
“I finished school a long time ago.”
Learning does not need to be academic. There are people in every community with a story to tell, something to teach. Learning leads to support. Observing nature itself is a learning process, or incorporating a new type of movement—taking roads less traveled. Brain Olympics are not mandatory, unless you like that sort of thing. Learning becomes self-care.
I have found learning to be a connective tissue. It is holistic in that it touches every part of life, draws us closer to one another, challenges our internal frameworks to evolve—to be more than what we think we are limited by. It shows up asking uncomfortable questions to strip us of our ego; just when we think we have been pulverized by the process, it whispers: “Look how far you have come.”
The next time you feel like you have been stationary to the point of ache and another winter looms, try lighting just one mental match. Ask the neighborhood mechanic what a timing belt does. Spice up those neural pathways by watching ants boogie. Perhaps you will start a fire and bring about a whole evolution.
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