Here in west central Pennsylvania, it’s the week when autumn’s colors peak. Scarlet and golden trees glow from the hillsides and lawns, their leaves raining down in the breeze like love letters dropped from the heavens. Roadside stands have appeared with heaps of fat pumpkins and baskets of peppers, squash, onions, and tomatoes. In the fields, giant machines harvest the soybeans and corn.
Summer has slipped into memory, leaving its bounty behind. We gather it in preparation for what is to come. And here, in this moment of transition, I stand, awed, at the beauty of it all.
A mere six months ago, the trees and fields were bare, the hillsides wearing only the green of scattered pines. Patches of snow and ice still lingered as we searched the landscape for signs of spring. And now! All this bounty!
It just goes to show you that no matter how bleak the world may seem, miracles are unfolding, just out of sight. You just have to trust that everything has its season, and all of it has its own reason, however mysterious its reasoning may be.
On my window sill I have a rock engraved with the word “Change.” It’s my little reminder that change is the only constant in our world, the only thing that’s permanent.
The key to living with maximum joy is to accept the impermanence, to learn to dance to life’s changing rhythms, to welcome change as a revelation of who you are and what you value. It lets you tap your accumulated wisdom as you make choices about how to respond to its unfolding events.
Change teaches us not to cling to things, to be willing to let go of what we’re experiencing now so that we can embrace the gifts of the next now, and the next. It teaches us to be one with the present, open to all that it holds. It shakes us out of our dreams, waking us, alerting us that a spacious reality is beckoning, full of possibilities and wonders.
Change shows us that life is always in motion. Change is the music, and life is the dance.
The seasons change. The weather changes. All things come and go.
But remember this, too. Through your choices, you have the power to influence the direction of change. You can speak. You can be silent. You can act or be still. You can give or withhold. You can love or be unkind. And each of these choices makes a difference in the way that things will go.
Even when change is beyond your influence—day will follow night regardless of what you do—you have the power to accept and be open, or to resist and be imprisoned by your resistance.
I can see autumn’s beauty and be filled with awe, or I can mourn the loss of summer or dread the winter’s approach.
When I open to its beauty, it energizes me. I am one with its scents and colors, with the dance of the flying leaves, with this wondrous moment, with the realization that I am alive in it and a part of it, with all its drama, and it is a part of me. And all is well, and the next moment will take care of itself.
Warmly,
Susan