Letting go

I’ve been thinking about trees again. (And death, and life, and change). There’s an ache that grabs my heart this time of year, in glimpses between the thrills of sensory experiences autumn always shares with me. Apples, mostly. But I’m in a personal season of letting go. It can feel so painful. I know I’m grasping. Holding too tightly. But look at the trees. They just let go. No fear, no pain. No second guessing or worries. And so gracefully, too - the leaves dance as they fall. Trees seem to know deep in their cells that’s it’s ok. More will come. Growth. New life. Something beautiful. Better. Or maybe not...just, different. Change. They simply drop what’s no longer serving them. Trust in the certainty of spring. Seasons. Or maybe even it’s so much simpler that even that. They do it because it’s just what they do. 

Grief, you guys. It’s not only about someone dying. But yes, that. And also, letting go of a dream. Or just...change. Something changes to replace something else...and something is lost and something is gained. Moving on is always a loss. But...such opportunity. Such hope. I’ve learned (or at least, I hear) that eventually it is possible to drop the pain...memories intact. Get to a place where you can think about, or remember...pain-free. I don’t know. I know some of us have sensitive souls. Tender hearts. While life may be full of joy and life and love...lately it seems impossible to imagine ever escaping the up down up down cycle. And have I always been trying to escape? Maybe. At least climb higher. But I guess a better strategy is to notice and embrace completely each season. Each day. Each moment. I flopped on the bed last week with a sigh, as I surrendered to this fact, yet again (I’ve surely revisited it many times throughout my life).

As an old friend always used to say: “There have to be downs to be ups.” Man, that feels trite sometimes. But sometimes it feels like profound wisdom. And hope. 

So. Mindfulness. And presence.  

Always.    

And maybe a pumpkin spice muffin.