I live on one of the most beautifully treed streets in Toronto. Last autumn, as I sat working in front of the window, I felt like I was watching gold fall from the sky all day long.
In the last week, autumn has set in again. The leaves are turning orange and red and gold, the weather has turned windy and rainy. I hear the sound of cars on wet streets, watch the branches fall down in the wind, and arrive home with dead, mucked leaves stuck to my shoes.
“Everything is dying,” I think to myself. I wonder how to face another round of things turning grey and lifeless.
It might be the coaching – spending so much time hanging out in possibility – or it might be reading books with titles like “The Answer to How is Yes”, or sentences like “Sometimes the best thing to do is to hold a kind of silent vigil beside the part of us that is going through the depths of a difficult transformation.” Whatever it is, something switched in me today, and I wondered what I might find if I stopped psychically fighting the natural season of things shutting down.
The earth is tilted at 23.5 degrees in order to allow three months for things to have their circulation cut off, turn colour, fall to the ground, and die. What am I willing to cut off? What in my life is ready to die in a glorious blaze?
Suddenly autumn is an opportunity, and I’m eagerly looking around to cut something off at the branch.
What are you ready to put down, to put to rest, to bury?
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