Sunday, September 22, 2013


My blog posts seem to be almost annual. As someone who writes every day this puzzles me but so do lots of things so I keep on living in the mystery of my own contradictions.

As I took my morning walk I was struck by the resonance between this stage of my life and the season.  Autumn is about finishing.  She is messy, flinging her seeds out at random.  She sends some to cling and some to be carried by others landing out in the wilds of the world. She makes one last colorful  display then dances out onto the wind to join the leaf litter, finally to become the humus of memory.

The field above my neighbor's house is glorious with goldenrod. Purple asters bloom on the borders, and the dogwoods, always early messengers, are already red and rust with bright red berries. The summer rains have left lingering green in the pastures, but my barn is filled and fragrant with bales of second cut hay. The woodshed is full and the garden is still bright with chard, kale and zinnias.

I live happily in the illusion that my fall preparations can prevent winter disaster.  It is the same with my advancing years.. the "autumn" preventions...vitamins, herbs, long walks, meditation and gym visits. Yet I feel an emptying, a release of illusions of mental and physical control over anything. With this comes a letting go of fear, a primitive radical trust in pure awareness and a beneficent Presence.

I have a strong desire to plunge into the reds and oranges, to roast pumpkins and bake apple pies. I love standing on my porch and breathing in the mountains.  I write crazy poems and take close up photographs of the rich browns in empty pods.  Nothing makes the sense that it used to. Like the dry stalks along the roadside, little that was important remains.  I want to dance as long as I can and then let go into the wind.    


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