There are as many worlds as there are kinds of days, and as an

The great American writer John Steinbeck, observer of men and the earth, once spoke with poetic vision: “There are as many worlds as there are kinds of days, and as an opal changes its colors and its fire to match the nature of a day, so do I.” In these words, Steinbeck reveals the fluidity of the human soul and the shifting nature of existence itself. Life is not one world, but many; not one unbroken song, but a symphony of countless movements, each day carrying its own rhythm, its own hue, its own fire.

To say there are as many worlds as there are kinds of days is to remind us that reality is never fixed. The world on a morning of laughter is not the same world as on an evening of sorrow. The world of spring, bursting with blossoms, differs from the world of autumn, cloaked in falling leaves. And within ourselves, too, the soul perceives new worlds depending on whether the day brings triumph, weariness, love, or loss. Life is infinite not in its length but in its variety, and every dawn ushers in not a repetition, but a new creation.

Steinbeck compares himself to the opal, that gem of shifting brilliance, which flashes green, red, and gold depending on how the light strikes it. In this metaphor lies the truth of adaptability. Just as the opal does not resist the light but reflects it in ever-changing beauty, so Steinbeck embraces the mood of each day, allowing his spirit to mirror its essence. Some call this weakness, but it is in fact strength: the power to live fully in the present, to let each day shape one’s song rather than demanding that the world remain constant.

History has shown us the wisdom of this posture. Consider Marcus Aurelius, the Stoic emperor, who each day wrote meditations for himself, adapting his heart to the challenges that arose—war, plague, betrayal, and yet also moments of peace. He knew, like Steinbeck, that each day is a different world, requiring a different response. Or recall Winston Churchill, whose moods were as shifting as the opal, yet who used this very sensitivity to read the changing times and rally a nation in its darkest hours. In both men, we see how flexibility and responsiveness to life’s variety become instruments of greatness.

The deeper meaning of Steinbeck’s reflection is that we must not cling to sameness or demand a single, unchanging self. Too often people despair because they feel inconsistent—joyful one day, weary the next, hopeful in the morning, heavy by night. But this is not failure; it is humanity. The wise do not resist these changes but, like the opal, turn them into beauty. Every shade of life—bright or dark—has its place in the tapestry of the soul.

The lesson for us, then, is to accept the variety of days and to let them shape us rather than break us. When the day is full of laughter, laugh deeply. When it is full of labor, work with steadiness. When sorrow comes, allow yourself to mourn, knowing that another day will bring another world. By doing so, we do not become rigid statues, but living, breathing beings, radiant in many colors.

Practically, this means cultivating mindfulness and presence. Begin each morning by asking: What kind of world is this day? Adapt your spirit as the opal adapts its fire. Do not force yourself into false constancy, but honor the truth of your emotions, your circumstances, and the season of life you are in. And remember: each world, though fleeting, has its gift, its lesson, its beauty.

Thus Steinbeck’s words endure as both poetry and wisdom. The worlds are many, the days are changing, and the soul, like the opal, must shine in harmony with them. To live in this way is not to lose oneself but to find oneself again and again, reborn with each dawn, and radiant with the endless fire of life’s variety.