Autumn is in full swing here, and today the winds arrived with much rain and storm. I keep intending to film and record another video, but the weather keeps delaying me. It’s alright. As the season falls further into decay and the trees drop off to sleep with their leaves around their feet, I find myself releasing much old baggage that I’ve carried too long. It is important work, dropping my own leaves, and takes quiet contemplation. One must fully understand what one is letting go of, in the same manner the trees let their leaves fully change from green to orange or yellow or red, in order to watch it fall away.
As I walk these whispering avenues and streets between wild tree trunks, the cold and damp nips at my nose and seeps in around the edges of my hoodie... Even despite all the signs of death, sleep, letting go, that are all around me on my walks, I feel a rebirth happening deep in my chest. It’s as if there is something hushed and hopeful brewing under the surface. Maybe, in shedding all our dead leaves and limbs, we are actually pruning for new growth. And maybe, the spring within our soul is nearer than the spring that the wild places are preparing for.
My breath plumes out in the cold air these mornings, and I am contemplative. I feel like I have been in a season of deep stasis: forcibly shanghaied in a holding pattern while purging and healing happens... and I am restless, more than ready, beyond ready to sprout and grow. The last few years have been hard, and I see age in the grey hairs that have sprung from my scalp. I like silver, but healing can be exhausting work and I am ready for a spring in my step, again. I am ready for new things, new faces, new adventures. I am ready to stretch these limbs and shake the dust off.
And I am not certain what hope looks like, these days. My heart yearns to find out again, but like a bird too long in a cage, I am wary of the open door. Mistrustful. I will have to learn new steps to the dance.
In the meantime, I play my tinwhistle, and come to a deeper understanding of peace, watching the leaves fall, one by one.
(Mirrored on Weku)
