Follow Natural Peaceful Paths through Every Living Day in this shared journey down natural paths of ease and calm.Autumn’s sharp leading edge cuts into the soft greens of Oregon summer. The long light is fading, the crickets are slowing, and I hear wistful tones in others’ voices. The wistful tones would’ve once been my own, in younger days when seasonal sadness seemed endemic. I’ll miss the light and warmth too—not to mention baseball season—but in recent years, my wistfulness is fleeting to the point of subliminal. No longer do my moods fall and drift when the leaves do.
What seasons changed inside? From where did this equanimity come? It wasn’t in accomplishment, or any other form of external attainment. I didn’t find it on Craigslist, or in the pockets of a forgotten jacket. It was somewhere in the learning of a quiet embrace: I learned to hold the purpose of the seasons, as I feel them in my individual way. Summer’s time of outdoor exploration is brilliant and precious. It’s for celebration of that light; for activity and motion, wandering across the face of the wild earth. But the pace of that can’t be constant. Fall begins the slowing down, the letting go; and if there’s anything that lightens emotions, it’s letting go. Old wounds, unrealized expectations, the need to be in exploratory motion—these can fall away with the leaves. Who needs them? There is new life within the fall to find.
Come winter, there will be hibernation, reflection. It will be time to go inward and embrace the experience of the previous year, to rest by the fireside and wonder at the storms. I choose a creative project for each winter, and there will be many to select from this time, with abundance at hand. Then spring will bring its inevitable rejuvenation—a celebration of another form. I remember having a conversation with Canadian musician Harry Manx, who said to me (in a month I can’t remember): “This is one of my favorite seasons!” Then he looked at me and smiled further, adding, “I have four, you know.”
I have four as well. No need to hang onto a passing favorite when it’s equally replaced by another. No need for nostalgia or looking forward. Only a desire to look more deeply into the current day. This past Sunday, we looked into the day from along the trail to Parker Falls, a little-used trail not far from home. The leaf, the caterpillar you’ve already seen here were there.
The sky above us was painting its beautiful kinetic art.
The falls held rainbows, just as we held them in our vision.
The creek held the greens and the yellows of the deep, steep canyons.
The forest surrounded us with its gathering release, ready to let go, to slow down, to embrace the nourishing coolness and wetness surely on its way. Everywhere there is new life coming, so no need to restrictively grip the old. To embrace and to let go: paradoxically, they’re one and the same at times like these.
