It’s the first day of autumn and I’m glad. Glad for the turn of season and all that goes with it. The sinking into rhythms with the kids, their schoolwork, their activities. The changing patterns of light in the sky and upon our tables and walls and hardwood floors. The (intense) energy of summer days giving way to something quieter, something slower, something other.
At a time when growth outside my door is slowing, I feel something building within me. It’s been building for some time (months, years) (a lifetime). And I can’t quite put it into words for you. But I feel it. It’s a vague sense of being on the edge of something. On the edge of (some sort of) clarity.
Clarity on how to move in this world. And, of course, I’m already moving in this world (gently, I hope). But I feel a shift coming. It won’t be groundbreaking to anyone but me. But I will break ground. I feel it.
On this first day of autumn, I write these words and look out at the autumn sedum. The autumn sedum is my herald of autumn, perhaps more so than the first falling leaves. I’ve watched the sedum over the summer. Watched their leaves form and their stalks grow tall. Watched their clusters of tiny blooms form, green in their newness. Watched and waited. Waited for those dear little clusters to turn from green to a rusty, dusty, wine-colored pink. And when they change, I feel my shoulders drop away from my ears. I feel the release, the turn. From one season to another, from one phase of growth to another.
Like the autumn sedum, I feel myself moving from that new and green growth to something different and slightly other. It’s subtle, so subtle that it’s difficult to put into words. Nothing is crystal clear (I’m not crystal clear), but there is some degree of focus, some quantity of surety. And then…there’s a bit of blur at the edges. And you know what? I’m okay with the edges being a bit blurred. Am, in fact, welcoming the softness of those edges and spaces.
Who says we have to have it All Figured Out? Well, I know who says that. But I choose not to listen, choose not to believe in that way of being. Rather than figure things out, I choose simply to move through it. I choose to make time to notice it. I choose to make space to embrace and appreciate and surrender. I choose to go with it, with intention.
It? This life, I mean.
Happy Autumn, my friends.
May you turn gently and go in the way that you need to go.
Sending a little love your way, m