Fall Weather – Turning Inward

Autumn marks the beginning of the end. Something primal in me responds with keen, fierce attention. My eyes are wide to the turning trees, my skin surprised by the sudden cold bite of air. Hushed voices of birds alight in my ears with amplified excitement.   I observe the days as if I were seeing final scenes of a movie. Now comes the culmination, the resolution, the revealing of meaning at the end of the long story. The whole cycle of warming, growth, pollen, seed and fruit now arcs to its climax as the land swings toward rest.

Do you remember how the last days of summer camp felt? Each minute was precious, the friendships all special, the poignancy of nearing separation nearly overwhelming, the intensity of sharing frightening and wondrous?

As air turns crisp and light slants and deepens, I get euphoric. Life begins its retreat, yet a strange celebration wells up in me. Leaves brighten. I watch the final pageant attentively, awake to the inner fire in trees, the mystery in the sky, the power of the margins of the day closing in, darkness slowly claiming the domain of light. Each noon is not so bright as the noon before, the light softer yet clearer. Clouds roll in yet the feeling of gladness intensifies. What lies ahead is mysterious, ominous, the descent into the cold darkness of winter.

Perhaps my gladness draws from an ancient love of journey and adventure. As autumn deepens, the mood intensifies. It’s the sense of this downward, inward, quieting movement of life that is joyful, that excites. Cold and darkness are coming, but it’s closing the door against them that is joyful, moving closer to the fire with friends and family. Long nights of stillness hold peace, quiet opens inspiration, and rest from business promises a return to self, to the most essential parts of self.

It’s a new sort of aliveness, then, a quiet inward vitality that the dying year presages, a coming back to origins.