Autumn thoughts on winter
|Photo by Adarsh Kummur|
I was looking out my kitchen window at some beautiful autumn leaves and bare branches. And thinking of what we hear so often about autumn being the season of letting go. And how beautiful that is, to let go.... blah blah blah. Letting go of things is painful and hard and most of us don't do it very gracefully, to be honest. We ugly cry and thrash around a bit first. And by we I mean me, of course.
Pretty sure the leaves don't choose to let go. The wind and the rain and the chilly changes knock them around until they just fall. And die.
They die. They lay there and get covered up and turn back into dirt.
But I was actually thinking more about what happens after the letting go. After the beautiful letting go and the ugly dying. There is barrenness. Branches and twigs all sharp and gangly and naked against the vivid blue and murky grey autumn skies.
Next is Winter.
And the whole time, the branches are barren and ugly and worthless.
Sometimes that looks like:
Dishes and laundry and laundry and dishes.
Being displaced. And not in a fun way.
Having things removed from your life.
Losing loved ones.
Death of dreams.
Sense of failure.
Loss of identity.
You can fill in the blanks.
So what in the world are we supposed to do during the harsh loneliness of winter?