All life is impermanent. We are always in transition, but especially so at the change of seasons. Though we may forget, each of us is part of this Earth’s creation and release process. There is no moment when some part of us isn’t either birthing into more verdant and creative expressions of life - roots deepening and buds flowering into fuller dynamism with the world around us - or beginning to let go of its attachment to what has been life enhancing and is ready to drop away.
Just like every part of creation, we humans are cyclical. We can’t but feel these cycles in our lives. But we’ve been taught that we are exceptions to nature’s way. That sheltered from its harsher elements, we are impervious to its changes. We often like things to stay the same. Our habits and comforts help us feel secure.
Yet pain and stagnation come when we try to hold on to what naturally wants to release. This time of seasonal change, this equinox, can be a powerful reminder to honor nature’s balance within, by simply allowing it.
This spring my family welcomed a baby girl, a new life - and this summer my mother released the 95-year hold she’d had on hers. As one generation passes on, another takes its place.
I’ve had a summer of great joy and profound grief. My mother was so ready that my tears of loss when she died were mingled with tears of joy for her. She was finally able to let go. Her body had long been leaning into dissolution. But she wasn’t ready to let go until she was.
Life’s cycles are inescapable. We really have very little choice except to welcome them. I’m a grandmother now, and officially assuming the role of matriarch my mother held for decades. But mostly I feel like I'm just pretending to be these new labels. Before this summer I was just in some in between place in life, not so young anymore, but not thinking about what was next.
Maybe this is how anything new feels. It takes a while to get comfortable with the strangeness, like wearing in a new pair of shoes. It takes a while, but eventually they soften up and fit just fine.
Now as I nuzzle my nose into sweet baby scent, I can't quite believe I'm this precious baby's grandmother and not just someone visiting friends for the weekend. Or that I can't just pick up the phone and call Mom when ever I want. It's real, these endings and beginnings. This new balance.
As we pass through this equinox season, we have a special opportunity to trust the deeper wisdom of the Earth, to consider what balance nature is inviting us to. But change is often not so easy. We humans don’t like to let go of what’s been sweet, or at least comfortable. We are emotional beings with fears that ignite when things start to shift.
Maybe we are more like our tree brothers and sisters than we realize. Trillions of leaves are releasing their attachment to what has held and fed them so securely these many months. Some flame with color and shine their brilliant beauty for all the world to see before they let go and drop to the ground. Some, like the oaks, take their time. They wait for winter to release their bonds. And some like the beeches hold on long past autumn. Through the winter, their lifeless, nearly transparent forms, cling to bare branches. Only spring’s new life, sap coming through branches in March, allows the lifeless leaves to release their delicate attachment to what had brought life and drop to the ground to become compost in nature’s continual cycling.
Some say we are spiritual beings embodied in physical form. What is undeniable is that living isn’t easy. And letting go can be one of the hardest things we must do. We thrive in connection, yet we can feel so lost, hurt or confused as we travel with others through life’s transitions.
Leaves seem to know their right timing for release. Is that because they are so thoroughly embodied? The sap that has been nourishing them for months has finished its work. They let go. From watching the leaves fall, I’m reminded that the body’s wisdom is there to receive my very human struggles and emotions and to support their integration and release when I learn to quiet my mind long enough to let the body speak. And to welcome it all with compassion and kindness.
Mary Campbell is a women’s empowerment and intimacy coach, ordained inter-spiritual minister, counselor, and educator. She is the founder and executive director of Walking Our Talk women’s creation circles and is the author of the forthcoming book: The Pleasure Playbook: 13 Invitations for Awakening Joy. Mary offers sensuality workshops and retreats for women and couples near her home in the Berkshire hills of Western Massachusetts and around the world. She works privately with individuals and couples wishing to deepen their heart and body connection. You can find her periodic blogs and offerings at DiviningBeauty.com
************************************************************************************************************
Many Voices will appear on the last Sunday of each month and will feature contributions from the community of paid subscribers. Beginning in October, all subscribers will be able to read Many Voices posts. Please consider upgrading to a paid subscription to support seventysomething, have access to the archives, and become a contributor to Many Voices. Your ideas are always welcome.
*************************************************************************************************************
Copies of my 2019 essay collection, Twilight Time: Aging in Amazement, are available directly from me (signed) or from Amazon or your local bookseller.
*************************************************************************************************************
Susie, what a gift this post is. I personally felt more related to trees than ever. They have so much to teach us about the ease and natural beauty of transition and letting go. Please thank your Berkshires friend for gift as we transition into November’s gifts.