The first morning’s quickly-jotted reflections:
Turning point.
Transition.
Cusp.
Edge.
Ecotone.
Place of
richness, time for vibrant attention.
Minding the
beauty and bounty of a lush summer now waned and a sustaining harvest yet to
come.
Though
officially marked hours ago as I slept, I wake into this incredible morning of
autumn: what’s already been in evidence for days, weeks, slow but consistent
turnings:
leaves
reddening, nights cooling, temperatures unseasonably high or seasonably
diminishing, earlier sunsets and later sunrises. This morning is punctuated by the
seeming contradiction of thick obscuring fog and the crystalline clarity of
mind.
But most of all,
there abides a liquid dynamism of heart. passion. direction.
The second morning’s quickly-jotted
reflections:
Incredible!Morning!Sky!
A total delight and surprise when I looked up and out the window.
Why do we think
we need nicer materials things and a computer in hand?
What personal
internal miracle occurs when we immediately put down the device and - even in
our jammies - go outside to the public street to gaze upward at the ever-changing
heavens?
How do we deepen
our spiritual life, enhance our faith, by practices that engage the moment?
Why wouldn’t we stoop, falling in total
surrender and in supplication to the rising sun’s play of color and texture on
clouds?
Earth. Air. Fire.
Water. Perfectly captured in glorious unity.
Earth: tall
trees as foreground, my feet rooted more solidly on ground, the substrate above
which hovers the beauty, eternal sinking place for sun and moon…
Air: the “fluff”
of clouds, the temperature – up there and on my skin, the breeze that shapes and
shifts the scene in subtle but ever-present tangibility…
Fire: the sun,
the light, the spark for my incense burning in sacred homage as I rush to the
outdoors…
Water: the hope
of rain on earth from those clouds, the possible shape of them, their life-giving
nectar, the wave-shaped patterns, the smell of nearby ocean.
The third morning’s quickly-jotted reflections:
The cotton candy
pink and molten amber of eastern and western skies at sunset last night are
nowhere in evidence now. Like holy magic, sacred trickery has occurred and what
passively drapes behind the tree line is a dull pearl color: thick. inert.
milky. The shape-shifting time of autumn is a wonder to behold.
In dozens of
towns during which autumn has unfolded in a short five decades to which I’ve
borne witness…each fall reminds me of the amnesia of prior seasons, about the
changeability, the high charge of transition.
Head knows.
Body and heart
forget until they are reminded by the present moment’s soft breeze, the first
electric chill of night air, the leaf litter building up, tree limbs flaunting
their nudity, the blazes of color that rise into fullness and then suddenly
disappear.
Soul savors,
always and faithfully.
I am in total,
unbounded, cherished love with these autumn days!
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2015 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
