Changing Colors

Walking to the garage after work yesterday, this November child revelled in the colors.

Just as in the spring when only for a little while does the green shine in new-ness, the orange hues of the maple  cried out in a blaze of glory.  The wet ground and soaked sidewalks, the gray skies and dreary day in general were the perfect backdrop to illuminate the radiance.

I loved it.  For a moment I felt I could be in New England or even in England; I could be in any time period.  Truly, it felt timeless.  Yet the very nature of the colors speak to the inevitability of time passing, the certainty of change.

This moment, though, I inhale, taking it all in, and exhale, letting it all go, hoping that in doing so I not only let go of that which I love and want to cling to but also release that which does not bring me joy and weighs on my heart and mind.  Yes, we can be attached to the negative, too.

As certain as change is, I’m reminded that I will see these colors again.  The exact pattern of the fallen leaves may change.  The trees I gaze upon may be different, but the autumn will return.  Such is life.

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Autumnal Thoughts

Denial.  Longing.  Wonder.  Sadness.  Hope.

In the span of a few hours, these are some of the feelings or emotions or thoughts streaming through my consciousness.  As the daylight decreases, nature tells me not-so-subtly that now is the time to be serious about what I am going to lay fallow this winter.

Mainly I cannot believe fall is nearly complete. Some of the trees still haven’t dropped their leaves. It seems last week the ginkos finally decided to go ahead and let go, but there are still some maples ablaze. This week is Thanksgiving.  I haven’t yet put Halloween in the attic, and I haven’t done our grocery shopping . . . or even made a menu/list.  I’m already seeing Christmas lights.

I long for what I can’t have right now. Leisurely time to cook, to plan, to watch the kids think and grow, to create, to write, to daydream out the window into the dazzling autumn light or through the heavy gray. I yearn to take back all that I’ve taken for granted in the past year.  I long to be.  I’d also like to do everything better.  I’d like to do and get done that which needs to be done.

Yet I’m amazed at all that has passed, all the blessings we have. I cannot fathom the significance of all that is and is to come, and I wonder at how all these pieces will fall into place. There is so much Mystery. . .

. . . and so much suffering. I can’t help sometimes from letting it creep up on me, dwelling on it a bit too long. Whether it be personal, trivial dis-ease or greater, universal suffering, it can catch me off-guard and sit heavy on my heart. This must be carefully tended in these winter months.

As the song and sound of the children’s choir rings gently and beautifully in my mind, I sense the hope that Light brings and feel the cycle moving onward, forward, bringing me with it. Light and shadow and ever-present hope through faith. Unexplainable, really. Beyond words. Now is a time to live into the experience and learn as much as possible. My teachers are everywhere. I kiss them good-night. I listen to their stories. I wonder at them and with them. I laugh. I cry. Always, though, I am learning and growing.

The leaves are falling.
The roots run deep in my soul.
What will spring reveal?

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Autumn is Here

With the ceiling fan on and what feels like an open window, I seek the warmth of a blanket.  It’s time to bring out my wool shawl.

I had the immense pleasure this weekend of retreating in the woods, an annual event now during a weekend when the ground rumbles with the vibration of thousands of motorcycles.  Actually, even in the wooded hills, we could hear the rumble on our hike.  At six o’clock in the morning, though, a couple of us sat on the porch in the rockers, listening for owls in the trees.  The ground was still.  The small throw I had was just big enough to cover my arms, and when we went inside to make breakfast, I could feel the morning chill on my cheeks and hands.  It was time for a fire.  Our morning prayer sounded out, accompanied by the crackle and warmth emitting from the hearth.

That afternoon, I brought my knitting to the parlor room and sat by the dark fireplace.  With door open, the fresh breeze was cool and refreshing.  After knitting and napping a bit, the sun dipped below the trees, and a chill returned.  An hour later, I built a fire, awakening the room with comfort and warmth.  A room in which to share good conversation . . . and more knitting.

Autumn is a season of lamplight and glows from fires, gentle chills removed by an extra layer.  Extraordinary sunlight and brilliant blue skies and days so gray to test your memory and resolve.  There’s the brilliant burst of energy and color, if we are so lucky and conditions are just right.  Then there’s the falling away.  More gray than color.  More darkness.  An expected death.  Quiet.  Freeze.

In Autumn, life is still easy and the harvest abundant.  The colors truly are amazing.  We have to enjoy it while it lasts, for this, too, shall pass.

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Indian Summer


This whole week embodies an Indian summer.  We’ve had our first frost.  All the trees have come aglow, and most have dropped their leaves.  I chanced upon this ginko tree at the park the day before Halloween; they drop their leaves so quickly.  Their golden leaves must be too heavy to hold for long.

And this week (which happened to include my birthday) reminds me of the renewal I feel in the fall, the creativity, optimism and groundedness.  Quite simply, I give thanks.  My blessings abound.  My gifts continue to create a beautiful harvest and provide me with plenty of work to be joyfully busy.

Even when the sun hides behind the clouds, as it undoubtedly will sometime soon, and the nighttime increases, I’ll let the Light glow from within and cherish the time to let my hands create gifts for those I love.

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Say It’s Your Birthday . . .

I can’t help but have the Beatle’s song going through my head today because it is, in fact, my birthday.  🙂  I have no vanity about it being only my day of birth, so I’m willing to share the joy with all the other brilliant Scorpios out there.

The reality of it is that this day is like any other, for the laundry doesn’t wash itself, nor the dishes.  The sick child will need to be held all day, and I’ll keep hoping that my remaining milk is helping her eyes and that we all won’t get whatever she has.  The deadlines remain, and I’ll have to clean the house yet again to restore it to the beauty it was before much of the family came over.

The blessing of this day, however, is that the stars have been
aligning, and my dreams have been potent.  I consider birthdays personalized New Year’s, so I have a chance to begin anew on resolutions fallen by the wayside.  Today I will be gentle with myself, encouraging, nurturing, and today my husband tells me he has a surprise in store.  Today is unlike most days in that on this day several years ago, my spirit entered this world fully into this body.  Hopefully each day I come closer to realizing my purpose, finding my calling, fulfilling God’s will.

Thank you, mom, for birthing me.  Thank you, family, for the love and gifts.  Thank you, Mother Nature, for the beautiful autumn colors that have remarkably lingered into November.  This weekend was a beautiful Indian Summer.

May we carry a bit of the magic and love of birth into every day of our lives.

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Perfectly Dreary Day

(Pardon my blogging absence; I’ll play catch-up the next couple of days.)

The temperature dropped throughout the day, and the skies grayed more deeply until finally it rained, softly at first, now steadily.  Today is a day to wax poetic . . . to sip tea before a fire, completely engrossed in a fantasy novel, whatever your fantasy might be, or to sit and gaze out an open window, feeling the wind carrying your mind and soul above and beyond where you ever thought you could go.

But me, I’ll visit with friends, catch up on e-mail, stop by the post-office, eat leftover chili and pick and choose which tasks need to be done first.  How does that make today different from any other day?

The air feels more like fall today.  The maples are getting particularly vibrant, and I feel that soulful restlessness.  I must create.  I must live vibrantly.  Do the ordinary tasks if I must, but the yearning for something different won’t subside.  That may be why when my son “had to go pee!” I pulled into our favorite park, let him use the restroom and then agreed to let them play at the castle for a few minutes.  We followed each other round and round the rock “castle” in the mystical, forceful air.

Perhaps I will wax poetic this evening and focus on writing or knitting or something besides household chores.  As a fall baby myself (and as I’ve mentioned before), I feel more aligned in the fall, like I’m where I’m supposed to be.  It’s okay to wonder, to question.  I believe that’s how we make soulful discoveries and find new paths, new ways to do things if not new things to do.  Perhaps my intuition speaks more loudly this time of year, or I listen more deeply.

Maybe the wind was blowing so hard today to wake me up, to clear my mind.  Stir my soul, o God, that I may be in perpetual motion and perfect ease within your Will, and thank you for this dreary day.

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Falling into Reflection

bridge_autumn_fall_234841_l.jpgThe air gets cooler every morning now, and while it’s not officially autumn yet, the leaves in places on our cherry tree are turning a deep red.  Being a fall baby, I always feel like I’m coming home as it turns cooler and the skies are gray.  It’s a time to be honest with myself and others, a great time for reflection.

In a dream night before last, I was talking with my midwives about my new pregnancy.  (Just in the dream was I pregnant, so no one needs to get concerned about me having 5 kids!)  Of course I’ll be having “pregnant” dreams now; I’ve just started two new journeys — one the women’s spirituality group (which meets Wednesday nights) and the other a Servant Leadership course (which meets Monday nights).  Also right now we’re having rehearsals for the play “Birth” by Karen Brody for our local BOLD events.  The time is ripe for potentiality even though the light will be less and the earth will be retreating into slumber.  It’s a good time to go inward.

For a reality check, where are you in your journey of life, of spirit, of health?  It’s time to be open to new discoveries, to be aware of what Spirit might reveal.  O, if only that could be how I live every day!

Blessed be.

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