The Lesson of the Leaves

As a woman who is living in the Autumn of her life, I can’t help but appreciate how subliminally and elegantly the Earth teaches me how to open, release, and forgive.

Imagine the leaves on the deciduous trees as our anger, resentments, bitterness, and self-recriminating thoughts. We become so attached to these that even when it’s time to let them go, we don’t.

I imagine those leaves swirling through the air, dancing with each other, feeling the freedom of forgiveness.

But what we humans do is hold on to a stance, a position, a hurt, a transgression thinking this is somehow noble, valiant, and keeps us on the moral high ground. In fact, what we are doing is preventing that leaf from doing its sky-dance, forcing it to it wither on the tree.

Releasing our firm grip on past transgressions against us and/or releasing our firm grip on the shame of our past transgressions against ourselves is the most noble, virtuous, and brave thing we can do in this life. But it’s not a one-time event, Just like the leaves on the tree. There are so many of them that need to release and swirl in freedom in the air.

Why is there only one word for this heart process? For that’s what forgiveness is, a process of the heart that we engage in every day. After years of holding our fist tight, we must remind ourselves every fucking day to open that fist up and release.

This is not easy. Simple? Yes. But not easy.

We slip into our old pattern so easily; it may take weeks to realize we’re resentful and angry at someone (or ourselves) again.

Our ego easily adopts the moral superiority of our position and justifies why we should stay in anger, resentment, and bitterness.

It isn’t until we feel the strain of our heavy feelings that we remember to open our fist and release.

This Autumn, practice releasing these old patterned heavy thoughts and feelings and let them swirl in their freedom dance.

If you want to talk to me more about forgiveness, contact me here.

Balance or Equilibrium?

The equal distribution of day and night at the Autumnal Equinox invites me to consider the concept of balance.

I have a visceral constriction with this word balance. Perhaps that’s because my body is so imbalanced: my right eye is half blind while my left eye has 20/15 vision; my right breast is half the size of my left, the result of a lumpectomy ten years ago; and my left leg has been gone for 45 years.

But more than just an imbalanced body, when I consider balance, I envision the cairns or balanced rock sculptures. If a herd of elk were to stomp nearby, the delicate balance would be destroyed, and the rocks would topple. So, there is an element of static-ness to balance that feels constricting.

I prefer to consider the word equilibrium, a concept that has been integrated into our bodies since we were born. Our inner ears are constantly using equilibrium to maintain our orientation to the earth and to gravity. And, I believe, our hearts are constantly using equilibrium to maintain our orientation to our Soul’s desires.

When I work with clients who ask for help getting more balance into their lives, I often ask, “What would that look like?” They are often confused and clueless. So, I move to, “What would that feel like?” It’s then that they talk about the notion of relaxation, rest, attuning to desire, and joy.

As the days and nights suspend in equality for a few nights, rest into this notion of how you can create more equilibrium in your life, that dynamic, engaging, often restful state of being that allows you to connect with your Soul’s desire.