The fall season in the eastern, midwestern part of the United States, is a transitory time in which great change happens. The warm, dryness of summer is replaced with blustery, wet and chilly days. The light of day that warmed us in the spring and summer gives way to longer periods of darkness. The splendor of fall color replaces the vibrancy of summer blooms. There is a crispness to fall weather that has a clearing, cleansing effect. The grass which had taken on a subtle dullness under the heat of the summer sun revives and thrives with bright green-ness nourished by frequents rain. The squirrels are busy burying nuts and seeds. The trees release their leaves and their sap runs with the cooler temperatures. All the plants send their energy down into their roots to prepare for winter dormancy. Herbalist know that this is the time to dig for roots because the healing energy is there and no longer expressing itself in the cycle of regeneration and propagation above ground which has not passed. Farmers know this is the time to plant the garlic. Landscapers know this is this time to plant the flowering bulbs to ensure a spring bouquet. The seasonal changes in the external, natural world, reflect the changes that our occurring in our spiritual bodies as well, sometime are subtle, sometime are pronounced. Noticing the changes in the natural world and reflecting on how they might also apply to our spiritual being-ness can be a deeply satisfying and reassuring a practice amidst the chaos, upheaval, uncertainty and fear that dominates the human realm.
1. There is seasonal complexity. Most people in the temperate climates of the west recognize only four seasons in temperate climates. However, in at least two of the worlds most ancient healing traditions, additional seasons are observed to capture the complexity of what is occurring in the natural world in order to assist its practitioners to adapt to the changes with intentionality. In Ayurvedics, the 5000 year old healing science of India, six seasons are observed, namely, Shishira (winter), Vasanta (spring), and Grishma (summer) in Uttarayan and Varsha (monsoon), Sharata (autumn), and Hemanta (late autumn) in Dakshinayana. Likewise in the Macrobiotic lifestyle which developed out of thousands of years of Traditional Chinese Medicine and Taoist philosophy, six seasons are observed: spring, early summer, late summer, early fall and late fall, and winter. In both of these healing traditions, intentional dietary changes are made to reflect specific and different growing seasons, and for both physical and spiritual reasons. (Neither understand physical/spiritual as separate; the physical continually manifesting the spiritual.) For instance, eating asparagus in late fall, or watermelon in winter, is considered confusing to the body and creates both physical and spiritual imbalance. To habitually eat out of season is to live outside the rhythms of the natural world of which we are a part and from which we cannot be separated. How would you characterize and differentiate the early and late fall seasons? Does the fall season, as a whole, alter your habits of daily living or how you feel? How might you tweak your spiritual practices to reflect/celebrate the changes in the seasons with intentionality?
2. The trees don't try to hold onto their leaves. I was listening to one of my health and wellness mentors speak about the fall season this week. This elderly, cheerful Indian man was sitting on a bench with warm, layered clothing and a hat. The ground was damp, the morning mist had burned off; yellow, orange and brown leaves were lying all around him with many still on the trees, framing his figure. In speaking of the fall season he noted that the trees don't try to hold onto their leaves. When the time comes each year they release them without fear or hesitation. (I noted to myself that neither do the leaves cling dearly to the tree.) There is no struggle or even surrendering because it is in the nature of the tree (and its parts, the leaves) to be an expression of life in one form and then to transform into another expression of life; to be life, to beget life, and to return to the living soil from where is came. The annual releasing of the leaves can invite us to wonder if being born and dying are simply two parts of a single action. Could it be that death is not an endpoint? How do you define "eternal life?" Would we live differently if we understood our selves as living entities of a boundless cosmos complicit in a continual cycle of death and rebirth? What does this powerfully illustrative fall season teach you about death?
3. Squirrels don't remember where they buried the nuts. It's true. We assume that these cute, little furry guys, so good a scavenging for nuts, recall all the special places they put their winter food supply, but in actuality, they don't. The job of the squirrel in the fall is to find and bury nuts. The work is to provide food for the whole community so that as many squirrels as possible can survive the harsh winter with adequate food. The object is not individual survival, rather, unified cooperation for the good of all. Anyone who has ever watched squirrels knows that they take their work very seriously and that at this moment they are busy, busy, busy stashing away the food that will sustain their community during the lean months. What nuts are you anonymously burying in places you won't remember for the good of all in this preparatory season of transformation?
Thank you for reading my blog and walking with me in the path of spiritual grace; for your willingness to spend this time with me as together we learn how to see and be Christ in the world. Rowena +
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