The chill breeze rattles through the dead leaves on the lawn. The sweet warmth of the autumn sun denies the portents of the lengthening shadows and lingers like a departing lover.
A cup of coffee, a comfy sweater, but still barefoot on the porch, I take deep, gluttonous breaths, as if I could imbibe and somehow store these twilight days within my heart.
The hours are growing shorter and the wind rises from the north tearing at sparse branches and daring golden leaves to cling to hope in the face of the coming night.
The keening of a hawk pierces the cold blue sky.
The wind settles and the sun touches my skin softly like a kiss that feels too short, and somehow it both quiets my soul and agitates me towards restless action.
Deep breaths like these are important in Autumn.
Twilight is upon us, and we must prepare for the cold night ahead.
In the North we know this cycle in our bones. It makes us practical, determined, and hardworking. The labor of our living is driven by more than just superficial circumstance. We are not rushing around in this harvest season without good reason. . .
There is much to hurry about, and the wind won’t let us forget, but as we prepare for winter and reminisce about long summer nights, let’s not miss the beauty of Autumn as it is.
This season of maturing and gathering. The strength and agility of spirit that comes with change and flux.
This is a season of power and passion.
Driven by lifetimes of harvest and hibernation, our souls know this is a time for great deeds. This is a time to shine. The trees in crimson, gold and purple shout to be bold with our time, but they also remind us to know when to let go.
Autumn teaches us the dance of control and release. It trains us to gather our power and strength and to let them flow back out as naturally as breathing. Autumn reminds us to work hard and rest well; to push when we must and rest when we can. . .
Like a mother to her newborn child, the exhausted smile of Autumn is the promise of fulfillment and a fruitful life.
After the the labor, let the leaves fall. . .
Wishing you a fruitful harvest.
Michael SunSpirit.
