the soft chill in the wind– the earlier pull of dusk in the evening sky. as we transition out of summertime, the signs of coming autumn might be calling you to draw closer to the hearth, to gather together the tinder and kindling– or the friends and family– that bring warmth to your heart as the days cool and the nights grow long. or you might feel more active, since the heat of summer no longer smothers. whatever the shift evokes in us, it’s a perfect time to release emotional habits and thought patterns that no longer serve us. by allowing those dead leaves to fall to the earth, they can be recycled into nourishing humus for the winter and fertile ground for spring’s growth.
add to that last night’s new moon, and the stage is set for the latest cycle of the grand life-death-life nature. we might see changes in our relationships and our emotions towards them. we might experience a series of small deaths and dark shadows from which the emergence into light and life is yet unclear– that is, unless we can come to trust the wisdom we can read from the seasons, which tell us that every death is followed by a rebirth. every autumn and winter are followed by a spring and a summer. and the most excruciating beauty can be found in the decay– the brightest colors, the sweetest smells, and the most exquisite pain.
“sometimes the one who is running from the life/death/life nature insists on thinking of love as a boon only. yet love in its fullest form is a series of deaths and rebirths. we let go of one phase, one aspect of love, and enter another. passion dies and is brought back. pain is chased away and surfaces another time. to love means to embrace and at the same time to withstand many endings, and many many beginnings– all in the same relationship.” –clarissa pinkola estes, women who run with the wolves
acknowledging ourselves as microcosmic instances of the cyclical patterns of nature, we release judgment and expectation for how our emotions and lives should be and move with ease and grace into all the shifts and changes that await us.
so if it’s not working for you– let it go. let it die. let it fall to the earth beneath your feet and become the ground on which you stand. let whatever love you’ve released rise up in its own time after its sweet sleep in the dark heart of the living earth, who speaks to you in seasons: what is buried will take root, and find light. what is offered to the dark will emerge anew when, one day, at the end of the everything, we begin again.