goes the rain
hitting the ground
streaming down the drain.
It’s not raining today, but it has rained enough recently in Seattle to force my still hooked on summer attitude to shift toward darkness and dampness—and how to appreciate them. My heart and soul have barely emerged from the dark night, and now the weather patterns emulate the cold dark feeling I thought I’d left behind. Time to enter a seasonal appreciation for the night and for the rain…
If love is the emotion which awakens my being, autumn is also the season which stirs my soul. The mystic in me surfaces during seasonal transition. One can liken our human spiritual well-being to the seasons…and it is no surprise that in the span of a year, my heart has seen all four seasons. Gazing upon the seasonal beauty of transition now unfolding in New England has indeed stirred me. Hence the entry of love…
But when I speak of love and loss, I also speak of birthing and dying. For, the wonder of golden and red leaves bears news of death and winter’s approach. As the trees let go of their leaves, I too, have things to let go. As much as I would like to shield myself from any sort of death, I cannot. Again, I grieve for the loss of things, for one who has been abused, for one who has lost a loved one, for several who have lost jobs…I grieve for myself.
The spring will come again…but before then, I must let go. I will let go…
The only words left to say are the words of a Rabbi:
Life and death,
a twisted vine sharing a single root.
A water bright green
stretching to top a twisted yellow
only to wither itself
as another green unfolds overhead.
One leaf atop another
yet under the next;
a vibrant tapestry of arcs and falls
all in the act of becoming.
Death is the passing of life.
is the stringing together of so many little passings.
Rabbi Rami M. Shapiro
Yesterday, Sunday 23 September, was the autumnal equinox, the first day of Autumn. I delight in the transition from summer into winter–how the leaves change color and dance to the ground. This is the season of transition, a season where change is brought before our senses. Let us welcome the transition and experience the autumn with joy!
The moon is full, the autumn nights grow longer,
In the north forests startled crows cry out.
Still high overhead, the star river stretches,
The Dipper’s handle set to southwest.
The cold cricket grieves deep in the chambers,
Of the notes of sweet birds, none remain.
Then one evening gusts of autumn come,
One who sleeps alone thinks fondly on thick quilts.
Past loves are a thousand miles farther each day,
Blocked from my drifting and my sinking.
Man’s life is not as the grass and trees;
Still the season’s changes can stir the heart.
Wei Ying Wu