Until I decide I won't, I am penning, these blog posts in support of my ongoing sacred journey course,“Creating a Life of Contentment," which began Sept. 15. For one entire year, we'll be traveling together as intimate companions: to relax, let go and rest into Love; to discover the bliss of our own life.
I’ve been savoring the days, basking in the autumn glow of a lingering autumn. It’s been wonderfully warm here—yesterday nearly 60 degrees, relatively unheard of in the Great North in November.
A quick survey of how the garden was fairing on these temperate days brought a few surprises:
Daisies that seem to want to green themselves again.
A rebirth of the chives.
Rosemary that continues to flourish.
We cut everything else back last weekend when it was an uncommon 70 degrees. Goodbye to the blooms that brought so much joy this summer. Especially the butterfly bushed which soared to 8 feet tall and served as a welcoming home to hummingbirds and monarchs.
Now all that remains are the mums. Oh, but they were glorious! Their yellow heads glowed in the moonlight they were so brilliant ...
And now they’ve lost their luster. Drooping, faded, heavy with the task of dying off.
At first I felt a tad sad. It is hard for me to say goodbye to this glow of color that warms my heart all summer. I delight in every new blossom. I set an intention to do so because each life span is so short. We have a little more than three months of summer here. Flowers in June, July, or August—then gone.
This garden, more than anything, serves as a spiritual metaphor for life. It reminds me again and again to live well with nature’s rhythms. To flow with the seasons and not wish things were different.
To bemoan the timely call of winter is ridiculous. I know this. Everything ages and dies. Everything begins again, grows, thrives. And the cycle continues. Yes, I know this truth in my heart, as well as I know my own name, but sometimes it's hard to live it.
Today these melancholy looking mums are only a projection of my viewpoint. They’re not sad to leave—I’m certain they’re not.
They're simply doing what mums do in the Fall. They bow with grace and dignity and let go, honoring an ancient rhythm to experience whatever comes next.
Might I do the same.
May we all ...
And, while I’m doing all this bowing, I intend to give thanks for their presence in my world, however short ... offering gratitude for how they colored my world, creating a panorama of Contentment.
If you don't like something, change it.
If you can't change it, change your attitude.
~ Maya Angelou