The Ever-Changing Winds of Life

October. Hmmmm..... Now November. Hmmmm.....

I don’t know about you, but in my life this time has been challenging, eye opening, chaotic and most definitely Heart opening. And today, I breathe a sigh of relief as some peace fills my soul, as I reflect on this Autumn and all Autumns of life.

There is a pattern here – in the changing of seasons and in my life. It seems every year, at this time, much chaos arrives, creating beauty, turmoil and release.

The leaves of the trees turn colour, creating a magnificent array of vibrancy, especially against the backdrop of the evergreen forests in the area of which I live. It makes my heart leap with joy at the splendor and my eyes tingle with unspent tears of gratefulness and sadness that letting go brings at the same time as appreciation for the now, knowing soon the leaves will be blown off in great gusts of northerly winds, spreading leaves, seeds, and birds asunder, which, of course will bring in a new beauty, a new perspective.

This pattern of the winds of change, the restlessness of Autumn, the ever-changing nature of our lives and of nature itself churns up residual gunk from past experiences (and possibly lives!) that needs to be blown out. My mind feels the urge to look for the new – a different place to live, a course to take, a room to paint, to just get on with it!! And what is that ‘IT’ anyways? What is this urge for new, for change, for nesting in and yet pushing outwards? Is it just the natural cycle of Mother Earth? Is this the Creation process? Do we go through this every year or is it ever present? How many of us are actually aware of this?

As we entered October and I arrived home (see last month's blog), my garden was alive, perky, showing off its final dance of life before we settle into winter. Some crocuses had even shown up!

And then, unusual for this area and this time of year, snow arrived with a vengeance mid-October: big, fat, wet flakes that fell and fell and fell, with me waking up to a winterscape of white, too early, bending the trees with all their leaves still intact, breaking branches, demolishing the tomatoes and all other delicate plants. Thankfully I had the wherewithal to harvest most of what I wanted the day before ‘just in case’ the weatherman was right.

And boy was he right this time! This snow, come so early, hung on for a few days – another unusual occurrence - which I witnessed from my kitchen window, day after day, wondering what would survive and what was done for.

After the snow lifted and left, I went into my little garden with a sense of renewal and yet sadness, as I picked the last feverfew flowers, gnawed on a few greens, reluctant to have it end, saying good bye for now to newfound plant friends as they lay limply from the chilly days and nights. And because of this reluctance, I suppose, I found myself laying down many of the dry, dead bean plants and discarded peapods along with the seeded arugula, lettuce, spinach and kale so that their leaves, seeds, and flowers can replenish the soil and pop up where they may in the spring. It is easier for me to do it this way – both physically and emotionally – as my love of growing gardens can feel like a constant saying goodbye as we harvest, eat, and pluck our way to this time of year. I justify this as a way to add nutrition to the soil, knowing that come spring there will be a bit more cleanup needed but that the plants get to die a natural death and live their cyclical nature.

But, aha! In the midst of all of this I see arugula and other greens popping up again, under the dead plant matter, making one last Hurrah! I push back the the spent plants and allow a bit of sunshine to warm these little guys... who knows, maybe we will enjoy one more salad before the deep freezes arrive.

So, restless, feckless and allowing the inner turmoil to roil about, I moved through October and now into November in fits and starts. For many reasons and no reason at all, much emotion has been moving through this person, Wynona. There is a definite sense of deep longing for the unknown, to really know Spirit, to connect with Nature.

This heart has been aching for connection – connection to humans, yes, and to all things green and alive, but most importantly to that part of me that shines bright, is innocent in every moment, wants to explore and learn and love and laugh and create magnificent experiences. And this ache comes with the need, the desire to commune, to share it all – the Love, the Joy, the Light!

And in all of this, I see the perfection of all that is happening in my own little world, but also the greater whole, and I delight with all of the opportunity we have to connect, to share, to evolve into who knows what. And this includes really, truly, living here on Earth in all its glory, grounding ourselves in what some consider the mundane, finding pleasure in the little things, being present in all we do.

So I am breathing. A lot. Moving my body in the dance of life, preparing for what could be a long winter, letting go of more stuff – physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally - and creating space in these months of hunkering down, making room for what may come.