~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
Autumn’s flags wave from the trees.
The woodland’s floor wears
its first layer of fallen leaves,
fluttering like a convention of butterflies
meeting to trade stories of their flights.
And so the dance goes on,
the dancers giddy in their twirling,
their flamboyant costumes
shining in the afternoon sun,
exposing to all the world
the fire in their joyous souls.
Humans don’t come here,
to this hallowed ground
that, all summer, was the bed
of a lake, covered in water
three feet deep where ducks
and terns swam and raised
their young among the rushes.
The only footprints at all
are hooved ones. So I walk
with reverence and care,
filled with wonder at the sight
of this magical expanse,
so transformed, as it stretches,
so revealed, in the afternoon light
of the late September sun.
It was a beautiful week here in western Pennsylvania. September quickly brought summer to an end and is ushering in what promises to be a colorful autumn.
The goldenrod is glowing in the fields, and the leaves are beginning to fall. They crunch beneath your feet as you walk down a sidewalk or, if you’re lucky, down a woodland path.
The beauty was a comfort to me as day after day brought difficult news both from up close and afar. As one friend wrote, describing a devastating setback, “When a dream breaks, it hurts.”
Yes. It does. Life holds frightening, disappointing and painful times for us all. Sometimes it hurts almost more than we can bear.
The only healing salve I ever found for that kind of pain is kindness.
I learned that from Tara Brach, an American Buddhist and psychologist. “Say to yourself,” she advises, “’this is suffering. Everybody suffers. May I be kind.’”
Be kind. You never know what burden someone is carrying in silence. But above all, be kind to yourself.
When you’re in pain, recognize that what you are experiencing is universal; everyone suffers. You’re not alone in your suffering.
Part of self-compassion means you set aside, at least for the moment, your longing to have things be different than they are. Accept that you are hurting. Accept that you are angry, or deeply disappointed, or in pain, or that you feel abandoned or betrayed.
Accept that those feelings are part of being human and that it’s okay to feel them right now. Hold yourself as tenderly as you would hold a crying child.
Know, too, that all suffering is temporary. It exhausts itself, all of its own accord. It may return; it may come in waves. But always, it exhausts itself and finally gives way to a new perspective, and you go on.
Life isn’t static. It carries us into new circumstances at every moment. And at every moment, it offers us comfort and peace. As soon as we are ready to receive them, life’s gifts are there, waiting for us. And they wait with patience and love until we can be ready.
Sometimes it’s as simple as letting go of the story you’re telling yourself about how awful things are, and of waking up to the broader reality. Sometimes it takes a good meal, or a good night’s sleep, or some time with an understanding friend. Sometimes it takes a new idea, a willingness to try something new.
And sometimes it just takes the passage of time.
But whenever you’re ready, the side of life that’s good and beautiful will be waiting to meet you. Keep your faith in life alive.
Life can hurt, and life can be exquisitely beautiful. Go with the flow, shouting out, “What a ride! Oh, Thank You! What a ride!”
Wishing you a week of sunshine and good fortune.
Warmly,
Susan
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
Suddenly the earth crunches beneath my boots,
the soft grass covered with newly fallen leaves.
I listen, silently laughing in delight. A year
has passed since this music last played,
this autumn sound, filled with nostalgia
and childhood’s singing joy.
September, dear September,
your last flowers open in salute,
small tokens, but pure and from the earth’s
very heart, in gratitude for the warmth
of your days, the life you nurtured and raised,
the harvest you brought to fruition.
Take them with our thanks as you prepare to go,
to remind you how, in our memories,
you will always be golden and loved.
The soybeans, ready for harvest,
have turned the fields to gold.
I count myself lucky to see them,
glowing like this, from across the lake.
By the next time I stand in this place
they will be gone, and the foliage
on the lake’s bank faded. But today,
here it is, a sweep of color, everything
dancing to the autumn song
of the endless unfolding Yes.
Your first inkling, I suppose,
was a tingling and, a warmth, followed
by an irrepressible urge: Move. Reach.
I imagine your bursting through, the moment
you found yourself enveloped in light.
And still, the urge remaining, intensified
somehow: Move. Reach.
Then the long struggle: cold, heat, drought,
rain, wind and absolute stillness.
And through it all the light returning
with its irresistible song, drawing
your face to turn in its direction.
Mornings of dew and birdsong.
Nights of stars and the traveling moon.
Reach. Move. And now, the fullness,
your great work revealed, these brilliant
petals, this storehouse of seeds
standing as a record of your journey,
and as your crown.
When the world seems to be
falling all around you, get
to higher ground. A new
point of view can change
everything. Where obstacles
stood, spaces occur.
Pathways appear.
Signs emerge to point you
in the right direction.
Release your confusion.
See that it’s all quite wondrous
after all.
When you want a taste of peace,
this is a place you can come, this place
where the tall ones rise from the earth
and tower toward the sky.
Stand among them and be still;
stillness is their first gift to you.
Feel how you are rooted in the earth
and formed from it. Breathe in
the light and the moist, warm air.
Notice the dance of the life force
through your veins and the music
of its movement. Notice
how it is not contained within you,
but flows with your breath, carrying
your essence outward into the air
to dance with the essences of grass
and flowers, trees, and ants and birds,
your note forming part of the song.
Watch the trees allow their leaves
to color and fall, the seasons
to change, time to flow. Hear
them breathing the Yes.
Taste its essence in the air,
flowing into you, and through you,
beyond the farthest edge of time.
I’ve taken the time, these last few days of summer,
to visit my favorite haunts, the beloved
and familiar places, to bid the season farewell.
The trail through the woods is lined with gold
and trimmed with bits of crimson. The first
fallen leaves crunch beneath my boots. Still,
the green prevails and shocks of goldenrod
continue to hold the sun. The earth feels hungry
and eager, as if the first scattering of leaves
has whetted its appetite for the great feast
about to come. In the warm air, a fragrance
unique to autumn drifts leisurely by.
A squirrel sits on a stump munching
on a pine cone. A hawk soars overhead
as high as the clouds heaped in the sky.
It’s a perfect moment, a jewel of transitioning
seasons. I touch the leathery green skin
of an oak leaf, whispering to this last day
of summer my heartfelt thanks and farewell.