Meditation in the Fall of Life
Decay or beauty?
The train’s speed seldom allows me to take a proper picture as we hurtle forward through the woods of northern Quebec to the province of New Brunswick, Canada. Only occasionally does it slow down, even stopping once over a wide, calm river.
It is early fall in eastern Canada, a treat I rarely am around to enjoy. The air is deliciously fresh and cool but not cold. The foliage is not yet a riot of color but the promise of a riot soon to come.
Tones of green still predominate, not only with evergreens but also many hardwoods. That makes the first rusts and golds and crimson contrast all the more with leaves still clinging to summer. In the midst of it all, stands of pencil-thin white birch trees with dark markings call attention to themselves. Some of their leaves are lemon or amber; some even flaunt bare branches.
What draws my attention is the fact that at this early stage, the most colorful trees, especially maples, are the youngest ones, the smaller saplings. Their splashes of yellows and reds show that their apparent “early aging” is deceiving.
Some say I am in the autumn of life: a time of decay or one of glorious beauty?
Am I just a sapling compared to those more aged beings, who take their time and will eventually “turn”?
Is it time to blaze forth more than ever before shedding that which I no longer need?
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