~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
The light dances down, falling in pools
on the water, smoothing itself
across the welcoming faces of leaves.
From the earth, the scent of autumn rises,
wafting across the mirrored surface of the creek,
melding with the season’s first ocher hues.
And we, standing ankle deep in wild asters,
breathe in the light and fragrance
and breathe out contentment and joy.
A velvet carpet, yellow-green,
lures me from the edge
of what , in summer, was a lake.
As I near it, the texture takes on
a lushness, an unexpected depth.
Its colors grow more radiant somehow.
I’m standing now at the doorway
of an undiscovered world, and
as I carefully step across its invisible
threshold, I see beneath my feet
a poem, alive and wild,
its meaning apparent and singing
to my soul.
Here in western Pennsylvania I watched as September came to an end, ushering in what promises to be a colorful autumn. The goldenrod is glowing in the fields, and already 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 I waited for word about how family and friends in the path of Hurricane Ian fared. The first news from the region after Ian made landfall wasn’t good.
Life holds frightening, disappointing and painful times for us all. And sometimes it hurts terribly.
And the only refuge I have ever found for pain is kindness. As I’ve mentioned before, I learned that from Tara Brach. “Say to yourself,” she advises, “’this is suffering. Everybody suffers. May I be kind.’”
Be kind to others. You never know what burden someone is carrying in silence. And above all, be kind to yourself. When you’re in pain, recognize that what you are experiencing is universal; everyone suffers.
Part of that self-compassion means you set aside, at least for the moment, your longing to have things be different than they are. Accept that reality is what it is. Accept that you are hurting. Accept that you are angry, or deeply disappointed, or in pain, or overwhelmed. 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, and true will be waiting. Keep your faith in life alive, and be kind.
And when the goodness returns, breathe it in right down to your toes and let every cell in your body feel it and give thanks.
Life can hurt, and life can be exquisitely beautiful. Go with the flow, and say, “What a ride! What a ride!”
Wishing you sunshine, my friends.
Warmly,
Susan
Don’t sleep! October is here!
Her golden moments sing, you know, then,
like some exquisite aria, quickly fade away.
Some grandeur is too great to linger.
It sears the mind and memory and is gone
as if it were some glimpse of heaven,
a vision made of hope in a near-forgotten dream.
But this is no illusion. This is a gift of the Yes,
the pinnacle of its rolling seasons,
the fulfillment of their promises to you, given in love.
Stay awake. Let this beauty etch itself into your heart
to feed you for all of your days.
Here, dear September, take this bouquet
of your last flowers, which open now in salute,
small tokens, but pure and from the earth’s
very heart. Take them with our gratitude
for the gift of the days that you warmed,
for the magic you wove,
for the harvest you brought to fruition.
Wrap theses blossoms in your arms as you go
to remind you that in our memories
you will always be golden and loved.
Looking back on this September,
in the year of 2022, you may think
of hurricanes and threats of war,
of lives destroyed or irrevocably changed.
And you may be tempted
to let sorrow overwhelm you.
Life is always tenuous, and danger
often near. Our lessons in compassion
come with a great price. But
may you also remember, when
you think back on this time,
that its days held golden leaves
and sunflowers dancing to the song
of a gentle breeze, and that,
as she was leaving, September
left blue stars, shining from the grass,
love notes to remind you
that life goes on, and you
are precious and loved.
Peter Piper picked a peck or two here, I’ll tell you.
Peppers aplenty, fresh from the field,
peek from boxes and baskets, piled high,
their firm flesh luring us to linger above the display.
Our teeth tingle at the thought of their crunch.
The buds on our tongues stand ready
for the first wash of their juicy sweetness.
And so we stand there at the edge of dusty country road,
the sunshine bathing our shoulders,
the piquant aromas of onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, garlic,
melting beneath this one peppery smell.
The farm wife bags our bounty with a smile
and carefully counts out our change, wishing us a good day.
With a heap of bags strewn across the car’s back seat,
we drive off, breathing the fragrance of heaven.
Morning comes laughing,
pulling you from your cobweb of dreams
into the spaciousness of a new day.
“Here,” she says, pouring her light all over your head,
“have some freshly brewed hues. They should get you going.”
And all of a sudden, there’s nothing but right now, stunning and bright.
It’s hard to argue with a sunrise. I mean here she is,
dazzling across the whole sky,
hauling an entire fresh day of possibilities behind her
where you can write anything you please.
Why, you could change your whole life if you wanted.
Who’s to stop you? Your old stories are no more real
than the dreams she just wiped away.
You could push your best wishes out there,
roll them right into the minutes, see where they go.
Why, with a sky this full of magic, anything is possible.
Given a choice (and always, a choice is given),
choose what is loveliest. Choose those things
to which your heart says, “Yes.”
Choose generosity over grudging.
Choose kindness over that which is mean.
Let your eyes rest on that which speaks of beauty.
Give your attention to that which lifts
over that which pushes down.
Look for the openings.
Reach for what encourages
over what shames, what builds
over that which undermines,
what heals rather than harms.
Nourish your soul. Given a choice,
(and always, a choice is given)
choose love.
The afternoon light settles on the creek
as gently as a dove and sits there,
motionless, except for the ruffling
of its feathery ripples, as the colors
of this early autumn day spill
over the rocks, and then rest,
shimmering, beneath the fallen leaves.