....that's the title of a mixed CD I made for my friend Meredith (Rochester neighbor) last year in the Autumn. Actually, I believe it was towards the end of Autumn. She just had Hanna and I just had Kailey. Well, Hanna was about 5 weeks old, but she was also born about 8 weeks before she was supposed to.
Anyways. This has always been my favorite time of year. I'm getting so excited about Fall coming. I can smell it in the air and feel it in my bones. Although I'm thrilled about this changing of season, there is a part of me missing. Autumn will never be the same. After the birth of Kailey, Meredith and I started getting outside and taking walks with the girls all tucked away in the Moby slings. We would walk and talk and talk and walk. We would drive to the park, to the cemetery and just be. It was pretty amazing having someone going through almost the exact same thing at nearly the exact same time. I remember being up at crazy hours in the night and sending texts back and forth to keep each other awake and supported. I'm forever thankful for the time we got to spend growing and changing; finding the mothers within, together.
Autumn, it's coming. Change is coming. Even though last year was so pivotal, amazing, and life changing, this year will be as much so. I know every season brings change, but why is it Autumn feels so much change? The transition of having a full branch of leaves on a tree to becoming completely bare and naked for winter, all to keep itself alive and thriving. Trees goes with the flow, following it's instinct, not wavering. What if we all noticed such a change within ourselves? What if we let it be so dramatic (not in the "drama" sense)? What if we allowed the shedding of our leaves and skin? Change can be raw, painful and ever so delightful if we only go with it. I'm currently reading a book called "Bringing Home the Dharma" by Jack Kornfield. There is a passage I read a couple days ago about working with difficult energies that's really stuck with me and I would like to share it:
"When strong desire, fear, or anger arise, just let it go. Or if you cannot let it go, let it be. To "let it be" is a better expression of letting go anyway, because usually when we hear "let it go" we think of getting rid of it, but we cannot really just get rid of it. To do so is adding more desire, fear, or anger; it is saying in effect, "I don't like this, so I'm going to stop it." But that is like trying to get rid of your own arm; this feeling is a part of us in some way. So instead of "letting go," letting be means "to see it as it is," seeing clearly."
Whoa! Really?! This makes sense to me. As I head into the school year after being out of school for 11 years there is some degree of anxiety, fear and excitement. Instead of dwelling on them I've decided to let them be, and let them shed themselves from my skin as they may. Let the leaves of these branches fall at their own will, allowing my intuition to take the wheel.
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