October: How Elegant Is The Falling
When October arrives, I remember I am not who I thought I should be. When October arrives, I cease to explain myself, to define myself, to defend myself. When October arrives I remove the heavy armor that has kept the vital desires within safe and potent. When October arrives I remember to expose myself to the winds and to the frost of morning--to move into the effortless dance of grace. In October I become bare as I remove the armor of doing for proving that I am behaving: heeding incessant advice, ignoring my wild and unpredictable heart and following along according to the program without getting distracted. Except that I am distracted by the falling of the leaves and the wind, and I want to feel the fire within as the cold on my skin awakens all that has been dormant, unable to breathe under the weight of the armor.
Bare. Exposed to feel without explanation, without definition, without a word. Quiet now, indulging in the silence where a great song will begin to emerge of its own timing, its own cadence. I will meet it. It will call and I will respond. I wait for what the stars will bring. The anticipation, the waiting is full of pleasure as I watch the light of the sun shift, bowing subtly to the beauty of the coming darkness. The sun, so used to inhabiting the center, stands aside with reverence for the holiness of a pilgrimage into the depths where nothing can be explained, only felt through the rhythm of a pulse. Bare and exposed, all I have to do is pay attention as something wondrous is about to take place, though I know not what it will be. This is the anticipation of wonder in the unknown, in the falling. What will be revealed?
The layers that have become so heavy, taking all of our effort to carry, begin to fall away as I simply stop trying. This is grace. Grace is my natural state, my effortless flowing. Grace is liberation of my desire from the armor of should’s. I know I have entered a state of grace when I no longer have to try, to fight, to defend, to prove. Grace is revealed when I do what I most want to do without explanation, and release the flow of expression that has been dammed for decades. Which means there is a reservoir of awe within me, ready to nourish the land and all within my horizon--that place where we never arrive, but navigate towards its endless enchantment.
When October arrives, I remember how much I want to ripen. To allow everything to happen to me without resistance but with a spirit of hospitality and curiosity. Come wind, tell me where you have been and why you sometimes howl at night. Come gentle light, and tell me how you learned to touch so subtly yet so deeply. Come morning frost, and tell me why you freeze the flow of water for us to notice the beauty in the end of a season, the end of a life. Come warm embraces, and tell me how you bestow love unconditional. Come long evening meals shared with friends, and tell me how you nourish each and every soul. Come grief, and tell me how precious it all is. Come love, and tell me about the things that matter most. Come nostalgia, and tell me that love we must because we inherited resilience. Come friends, and gather round me so I might feel you and your bare rhythms.
How elegant is the falling. How elegant is the falling away of the armor, the effort, the accumulation of should’s. How elegant we are. How elegant we are when we fall, when we surrender to the embrace of our nature, of our fragile, vulnerable, messy nature. How elegant to feel within the silence where a great song will emerge. How elegant to ripen, to become sweet with each rain, wind, and sun that beat upon us--to allow ourselves to be formed, to trust our own nature, our own desires, our own pulse. How elegant is the falling.
