I’ve written so much recently – and every autumn – about the transition to
fall,
darkness,
deciduous-leafnessness,
chilly rain,
and enhanced sun-up/sun-down colors.
But suddenly, I am realizing that so often I have felt myself an observer of these,
less a participant. Of course, my inner landscape turns fiery, and I become more introspective. But this sense of my place within the greater pattern is one I feel called to explore more deeply.
My place as human giving to human,
my place as ritual-maker of my observations in nature:
creator of burials,
collector of leaves,
arranger of nature objects,
photographer of that fluid moment in nature made still by the click of the shutter,
transcriber - and sometimes-now sketcher, painter, collage maker - of daily noticings…
But in what ways do we find our place within the patterns outside of ourselves?
How do we locate ourselves in this landscape of beings being?
What threads can I feel tethering me to the spider’s web,
or the chrysanthemum-in-bloom,
or the way it must feel when the sugars are shifting within the cells of the leaf as it blazes into flame?
How can we fine-tune our senses and perceptions in order to feel these reds and oranges growing upon our inner landscapes?
In what ways can we let go of the semi-permeable boundary of skin and psyche so that her transition –
Maple,
Nuthatch,
Soil
- is ours as well?
Where do we feel the shared blood that is Life and Living – the animating, nutrient rich fluid and essence that is within all Beings?
Digging our fingers into pine-needle-covered, wet humus.
Losing thoughts as we gain intimate, silent connection with this red blueberry leaf.
Seeing as if for the first time ever that familiar, everyday, black-capped chickadee in the wilting flower basket.
(Orig. posted Oct 2021.)
