Spring dies for summer.
Winter awakens for spring.
Death or rebirth?
Never can tell.
I woke up this morning after too many days of too many hours long shifts to a world that had started to change. The usual mugginess that is present 24/7 had abated, and the foreshadowing of fall had begun. My husband had placed my favorite fall candle (Leaves, by White Barn) on the coffee table the day before. Even the maple tree across the street had decided it was time to starting changing colors, a decision that may be slightly premature, since it is still August in North Carolina.
Premature or not, the change of seasons, especially summer to fall, never fails to bring back my favorite set of feelings. They can best be described as simultaneously nostalgic, painful, overwhelming, and perfect. But together, the experience somehow combines to create what I can only explain as a deep remembering. My being seems to resonate with the environment, recognizing it as itself, and responding with an emphatic: “YES. THIS.”
As the world changes around me, something deep within knows again that life is perfectly what it is. There is no need to muscle through days, resisting what I don’t like and clinging to what I do. What we do simultaneously matters immensely, and not at all. Every choice we make has a ripple effect that accumulates to a greater impact than we could ever imagine. And at the same time, summer will always become fall, and fall will always become winter. The only way I can reconcile the great paradox of our life on Earth is to decide to treat every moment, every interaction, as if that was all there was. And then let it go. The feelings that arise in me as fall unfurls are my soul knowing on a deep level the paradox that it means to be human, and fully embracing the perfection of it all for just a moment. So what happens after the moment? The world laughs and says better get going girl, you’re gonna be late to work.