Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Starlight in the Heart
Life is good. Autumn in DC is spectacular this year including the finest breath-taking leaf display I've seen in years, plus perfect Colorado weather most days. There have also been just enough gray days to lend a cinematic mood to the season. The best part is, because I'm 60, I'm appreciating every day so much more fully than I could have even ten years ago.
Here are a few of the dozens of pictures I took yesterday. I hardly ever post multiple pics, but it's necessary in order to convey that, nearly everywhere I walk these days, the trees are bursting with color.
I think we humans could learn a thing or two from deciduous trees about taking in the light, being nourished by light. Trees drink sunlight. They are well fed.
I've been thinking lately about one of the truths in the Reyaverse - that love is abundant and always available. Yet, sometimes we can not access the great ocean of love. In the Reyaverse, the great ocean of love is the divine light. It's all around us, always available if we can remember. Why do we forget? Is it the struggling towards the light that helps us evolve? Theories?
Trees grow towards the light, they grow branches and put out as many leaves as they can manage in summer. They increase their surface exposure, they surely do, so as to catch as much light as they can. They make hay while the sun shines.
When Brother Sun takes his autumnal dive into the darkness that will be winter, the trees draw the light in, and down. The leaves turn color as the chlorophyll gathers in. Super bright leaves in fall is an indicator of a tree is good health. Then, during winter, they sleep.
When I'm able to notice the divine light and therefore have access the ocean of love, is there a way I can expand my surface exposure? When the light wanes, can I be brave enough to shake off the old leaves, without giving it a second thought, without hoping somehow to hang on to the best of the leaves?
This is the train of thought I've been traveling on lately. Why oh why is it so easy for humans to get sucked into the dark when there is so much light? Do you know?
The days are waning fast in the American midatlantic. It's 7:30 a.m. in DC. The sky is only slightly brighter than it was at midnight. The trees are drawing in, pulling the sunlight they gathered into their hearts where it will burn slowly, like an ember, until spring.
Can I do that? I should be able to, since in terms of the seasons of life I am somewhat past the pretty leaf aspect of aging. I should be shaking off the the leaves, I should. How does one do that? Do you know?