An Autumn Reflection

It’s been a while since I’ve really been able to write much of anything. My mind and heart feel like they are aligned with the throws of autumn. Everything has slowed down and the days are shorter, darker, but there is also an ethereal quality all around. There is a magical effect of autumn that suddenly unveils a landscape of celestial color that has been waiting for us all year.

How could this type of death be so breathtakingly beautiful? I’ve wondered as we all sit in wonder at the glory of the trees, what are the trees feeling? Are they distressed? Do they feel cold, naked, exposed?

The whole world is watching the death and saying this is good, but what does the TREE think?

Do they look at all of their magnificent leaves that have provided nourishment and shelter and comfort and sweetly wish them well on their way? Or do they try to hang onto and cherish every part, knowing what is ultimately inevitable, but desperately clinging on to what they’ve KNOWN, but will ultimately be overcome by the winds and the rain…

As I’ve been sitting in this liminal space waiting for the next thing and for my body to heal, I feel like I’m learning how to sit uncomfortably in the paradoxical beauty that comes with autumn — the counter-intuitive beauty of letting dead things go.

I’m learning how to be a tree. I’m learning to trust the process of life to take me where I need to be, even if it feels frightening and forced upon me by an external hand of nature.

I feel like there is an inner trust that has developed over the last couple of months that has sustained me. I have been able to sit in the things that have been disappointing during this time and still recognize that this painful time means my true self is being discovered in its full divine glory, and all the dead things no longer serving me are falling away.

I think that’s where the paradox sits. I can be uncertain, but recognize the positive direction my life is headed without carrying on a saccharine disposition. Did you know that trees leaves aren’t really green? No, their true colors are unique and bold and daring and only come out on display when they are ready to let go and welcome the new. Oh, thank heavens this stripping away happens slowly, gently. The trees know only their true colors can come out slowly and vibrantly. Then, ah, suddenly, they have our attention!

So maybe now, as scared and reluctant as I am to let go of all the familiar, I can sit grounded as a mighty oak, bow my crown as I surrender to the forces that be, and agree with you it is beautiful.

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