I sit on the porch with a mug of hot tea in hand, a tightly-wound spirit in heart. Having scored a few blissful moments of quiet thanks to an episode of Wild Kratts, I enjoy the silence and the view overlooking the backyard.
I haven't spent much time out here lately without a laptop by my side, and I start to notice something I haven't paid enough attention to.
The first leaves...they're falling.
I watch them--one by one--it's their moment in the spotlight. They turn, twist, and land gracefully without a sound. I'm amazed by how peaceful the process is.
No leaves grip to the tree crying "I don't want to go. I don't like change!" There's acceptance, letting go, beauty in the fall.
I don't know about you, but my process of change doesn't always follow that pattern.
We've had our share of growing pains with the approach of this season - children ready for more study, a new rhythm for our days in a new house, and a book I've been working on for what feels like a lifetime not following "the plan" I had laid out for it.
Breathe, Jamie. Don't hold on so tightly. Take a lesson from the leaves.
So much beauty emerges from the letting go. And through the death of one thing a whole new season is born.
“Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence.
Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance.
Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence.
Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.”
~ Yoko Ono
