I feel the shift of seasons as I rest under the shade of the maple tree that I’ve visited many times these past months. At first I found it as an utter respite with the vibrant green leaves of spring offering such a luxurious shade. I reveled in the soft breeze the leaves generously offer me in their quiet blowing in the wind.
Now the rustle is more textured, as the leaves have begun to dry out. I coil a little when I see spots of brown on what once were youthful leaves. Visual evidence that change has already come.
When the inevitable tumble of leaves fall from the branches I am struck by a cascade of feelings : nostalgia, relief, gratitude, loss, and hope all wash over me simultaneously.
Nostalgia for what will never be again.
Relief for the support that comes with a routine and a rhythm coming into form again.
Gratitude that I am here to witness this miraculous shift, again.
Loss for the days already past, the grand plans never created.
And boundless hope for integrating the threads of my being into this landscape.
So the falling leaves become a serum for my soul.
As I find a way to embrace my feelings, I find a way to embrace the fall, and let the resistance melt, so I can stay open.