This is an unusually speedy post to say I’m still here, the Wheel is still turning and I am most certainly walking with it!
So much is happening in life at the moment and I have been blessed with numerous real life opportunities to meet with people, explore the chaning seasons and our changins selves and to celebrate those changes and transitions through conversation, laughter, ceremony and song. I feel like something significant has shifted in the last week or so. I can’t quite put it into words yet but it is exciting and inspiring… and of course the baby bump keeps on growing…
Lots of do and lots lots more to be grateful for. I am sure some of it will come out into more coherent thoughts in the coming days but for now I am off to Norfolk for a lovely break with the in-laws in a aprt of the country I have never visited. I’m excited to experience my favourite season in a new place… I can’t promise photos but likely some word pictures to follow.
Until my return here is a short something that snagged in my mind a couple of weeks ago and had continued to sit comfortably and courageously in my soul…
A Lesson from the Trees
The Equinox is just behind us and I can almost feel the Wheel clicking into its new groove. Autumn is fully upon us, mornings are inevitably misty and cold and I am waiting (im)patiently for the leaves to start turning in earnest. I look to the trees every day on my walk to and from work and whenever I get out into the parks and outdoor places otherwise, remembering why at this time of year they are my greatest teachers.
Their beauty is unblesmished by the change in temperature; in fact some are still resolutley, summer-green. And yet…
…their energy, their sense, the feel of them tells another story.
I ponder, reach out and taste this difference; wondering what has changed that I can’t yet see. Slowly I begin to realise that although the trees still look mostly the same they have in fact begun to draw deep into themselves; some are already deep in their root hearts, retreating from the busy World above. They have accepted the turn of the Wheel with silent grace and acquieced to its encouragement to sleep, to dream…
They have let go.
Although their canopies are still full of leaves, those leaves are mere shadows of what they were scant weeks earlier. No longer do they hold the vibrancy and energy of life, growth and regeneration. They are empty, hollow; no longer vessles for chlorophyll and light, they now embody the memory of what has been.
Soon those leaves will fall away, no longer supported by the tree’s heart. They might fall quickly or slowly, gripped by wind or winding through air; but always they will fall with gratitude and with grace.
And the tree will no doubt mourn their passing, but is not weighed down with grief or regret. It is not clinging to those leaves in desperation or fear of the supposed emptiness that lies ahead. Instead the tree has accepted – with its timeless wisdom and ease – the need to release all that has been. It has accepted this even before its leaves have started to fall.
And this – I realise – is what makes the trees of Autumn more beautiful and more striking than any others.
Although we don’t always recognise the exact moment of its happening (just as we don’t see the exact moment a tree loses all its leaves) letting go is a part of nature, a part of life and we achieve it in our soul before we see the result of it in the World.
When we finally realise the process is complete the shedding has already occured and we are revealed standing, strong and certain, in our new skin.
That is the lesson I learned from the trees.