Sacred Seasons | Trees Whisper The Wisdom Of Release

In autumn's dance, trees willingly shed leaves, not in sorrow but in trust of life's cycles. A lesson that letting go is not at all the same as losing something, and that rebirth is always found on the other side of every kind of death.

Transcript

I used to pity the trees when they lost their leaves, Feeding pieces of themselves to the hungry earth below, Their beauty swallowed by rot and trampling feet. A Shakespearean show of bellowing crimson and lemony hues of poetry shivering overhead, The world shuffling about in trance among the assumed tragedy of it, None of us realizing we're actually bearing witness to a comedy. How deeply we think the trees must mourn their sagging branches, Their wilting youth, Superficially placing our own inner reckonings with lost beauty and vibrancy onto an innocent other that cannot defend or define its own experience. But there is an intentionality about the flutter of leaf reaching for dirt, As though it has been mapping its course from bud to browning edges over thousands of lifetimes. If you were to hold still in your daily doings for just a moment, You would feel rumblings of deep belly laughter breaking through rough scarred bark, Responding to our vanity, Our discomfort with the impermanence of all things with an all-knowing cackle. It's as though they hear us wooing them, Trying to make their brief show of divinity somehow belong to us, Feeling our own hollowness with their scent and the joy of a good leaf crunch beneath our foot. But they have practiced their nose for centuries. They do not concern themselves with how the world wants them to be and when. They renounce our attempt to claim their beauty as our birthright to enjoy, And they shake themselves bare in an act of solidarity. I wonder what they think of me scrambling about beneath them. I wonder how many beautiful things I have looked at in my life but never seen. I wonder if it's really the trees that pity me. What would it feel like to live in rhythm with nature? To no longer hold onto that which is trying to fall away? To move into new seasons without fearing loss or resisting change? What might it be like to shake myself bare? To simply decide to wipe my face clean from a lifetime of masks caked on and cracking? To allow for everything that feels unnecessarily adorned to drop to the earth and rot away? Just as the trees can feel for when they are ready to turn inwards, Their life force pooling in their roots, Anointing themselves into the privilege of deep rest, What might it be like to feel for my own intuitive pull? To curl up next to the bears and hibernate away from the world? And to trust my spirit to wake up again when I am good and ready? We are, After all, The only beings in the universe gripped constantly by what should be, Collecting things, People, And moments in a furious stream of insatiable striving. Silly humans, Walking beneath willows and oaks, Feeling saddened when they choose to honor themselves, Instead of reminded that the option to do the same is always available. Since the beginning of all living things, Leaves have never once been lost by their trees. The losing we perceive is really a choice that they make, A choice to trust the delicate crisp air, A messenger from mother nature signaling an invitation to release and rest. What might you choose to release, My love? Should you be so fortunate to notice an invitation to do so? What fruit do you hold on to, Long overripe, Bending your branches and greedily hoarding the energy your roots need to strengthen and weave their tendrils deep into the rich, Sultry earth? The energy your dormant little baby blooms need to stretch their perfect faces towards the sun, Receiving a kiss on the forehead welcoming them to the world? How mighty you are, Having resisted a force so great as the turning over of a season in your life. How thick and weathered your bark must be to have held you all this time, Sure and unwavering in the face of fear about what you might lose and never get back. But for just a moment, Hear with me now. Consider what might happen if you allowed yourself to notice the invitation I'm laying at your feet, The whisper in your ear that letting go is not the same as losing something, And the promise that there is, And always will be, Rebirth on the other side of every kind of death. With your next exhale, Allow your eyes to rest, Your vision fuzzy and unfocused, Or hidden altogether behind the safety of your eyelids. Trust your lungs to draw in when they are ready, Releasing any holdings in your belly and allowing yourself to be filled. Reach up with your hands and rub them together, Building a small fire between your palms, And when you tire, Softly place them over your eyes. Feel for the warmth of skin on skin, The pulse of your heart in your fingertips, And permit yourself the pleasure of imagining for a moment what it is that you feel complete with in your life. Does something specific flood your thoughts at the faintest suggestion of it? Do many things swirl about in an overwhelming flurry, Or perhaps no one thing at all makes itself known but rather a narrative, A feeling, Or a black hole of nothingness that you feel called to let go of? You may not know why you want to, And how to begin might feel as tangible as catching the morning mist in the palm of your hand. You may not feel safe to, If the world feels too unfair, Unjust, Or undeserving of witnessing a more whole version of you. If the very thing you've been afraid to let go of is what has helped you to survive all this time, You may not feel ready to, Unprepared to stand bare and start again. But for just this moment, Permit yourself to indulge in a secret wondering. What might the world look like for you, And only you, Without the weight of what you carry through it every day, Without concerning yourself with what making a change in your life will mean for everyone else around you, Without indulging your mind in the juicy story it's trying so hard to spin about what will happen next and all the bad things that could arise from honoring yourself in this way. A scary, Foreign concept your mind has no blueprint for. Just for this moment, Stay right here, In the simple imaginary release of it. On your next exhale, Cover your ears, Allow your lips to part, And listen to your deep, Full, Cavernous sigh. Imagine letting go, And instead of it all crashing to the earth, Shattering us in its path, Watch as it gently finds its home among the earthworms, Like the last puzzle piece clicking tenderly into place, Evidence that you were never meant to hold it forever. Feel for your roots feasting on the flesh of who you once were, Nourishing yourself with yourself, Drinking in an elixir rich in the perfect balance of what you need to thrive in the season you're stepping into next, A gift to yourself only you have to give. Permit yourself this moment to hibernate away from the world, Branches bare in preparation to hold all that newness that is already alive stirring inside of you. Resist the temptation to rush towards it, To skip past your pocket of rest and perpetual comfortable forward movement, And instead, Practice in this very moment, Allowing yourself to be as you are, Eyes closed, Belly soft, Roots deep, For as long as your soul craves.