Submitted by Anonymous on
In the past few days I’ve had multiple conversations about Ohio in October. In short, it’s a beautiful time of year. It’s special.
It’s the trees that do it to us. I’m fearing the downward line of societal disintegration, and they’re still there, pointing to circularity. They’ve gathered their energy, stored their supplies for the journey through winter, and are letting go. Their colorful solar panels disintegrate and become earth and soil beneath them. What has the outward appearance of death is how they live.
I do grieve the leaves falling every autumn. I’m never ready for it. The green didn’t last long enough. I didn’t appreciate the canopy enough, again. And it will soon be gone. I’m never ready for the trees to be bare. I will likely notice this every day until they aren’t, again.
It’s likely the mix of grief and beauty that makes this such a soulful season. That combination works miracles, many of them painful and necessary.
I see that mix of grief and beauty also present in our sanctuary work, #metoo, and every other present effort of humanity defining itself in courageous and vulnerable ways. It is healing work, and we are the ones in need of healing.
I’m grateful for a quarterly Sabbath weekend. Abbie and I get to spend a couple days in Hocking Hills among the trees. They are faithful companions and speak a language I need to hear.
Peace,
Joel