I am very melancholy this morning. Not trying to change it. Not trying to make everything happy and cheerful. Simply watching this mood and honoring its arrival.
It may have departed before you read this blog.
Autumn can bring sweet melancholy, can it not? It arrives–at least in this northern part of the world–and brings vivid beauty in vibrant colors of orange, red and yellow.
It struts. It poses. It takes away our breath with its stunning display.
Yet–all too soon–in a blink of an eye, it often seems–it departs, the leaves turning brown, falling from the trees, disappearing from our still-stunned memory.
We may feel a loss of innocence, a dim memory of summer picnics, the smell of fresh peaches and strawberries, the dazzling wind-blown spirit of a lupine or daisy.
In the winter of our lives, bare bones of trees click together in the frigid moonlight and we must, once again, adjust our vision to view simplicity as beautiful. To know that black-and-white can stir the heart. To turn inward toward the campfire of our soul.
So, in autumn, we stand between. Between memories of short-sleeves and lounging on the deck. Between cook-outs and boat rides. Between icy storms and deep snow.
In our lives, we often experience these autumn feelings when we let go (either willingly or screaming with indignant frustration) of the things that no longer serve us.
People get sick. Loved ones die.
Everything changes without our invitation or permission.
With every passing season, we let go that which once breathed and stood in vibrant glory.
Did we truly appreciate the vibrant glory as it existed? Or were we too busy thinking of tomorrow’s duties and challenges?
I so often pray to live more simply. But what does it mean to live simply?
After all these years, I think it has less to do with possessions that with the ability to be totally present with what is in front of us. To be with the gift of the moment as it rises–and then falls–before another moment rises and falls like the dance of seasons.
This morning, while Barry casts his line deep in Lake Superior for the last time this season, I drove slowly to town for a cup of coffee, wanting to share what is in front and center in our lives with my blog friends and family. The precious moment which is unfolding now.
I still feel melancholy, but that is OK. Someone–I don’t remember who–once said that when we deeply experience our own soul it feels like absolute joy tinged with melancholy.
Wishing you sweet autumn days as we gracefully release that which is no longer needed…and embrace the new energies which emerge in our life daily.