FALL’S SUBTLE, COSMIC SHIFTS URGE ME TO SLEEP IN, as if hibernation was a natural inclination. I emerge from cozy, feathery comfort, my bare feet touch the floor. Catching a deep breath, I reach, stretch, and bow, to begin slow, energizing Suryanamaskar, honoring the gifts of sun, sky, and earth, a practice to which I have committed myself, since 1972. On this late morning, as I gaze at my surroundings, I move to simplify with great facility~~a stack of non-essentials here; one to re-consider, there; all these clumps like spent, interior leaf piles, bound for the re-cycle bin.
I plan my menus of comfort foods; digestible, satisfying soups, root salads, bone broths.
Half in jest, I reflect on our animal sisters and brothers, who sustain themselves during Winter’s deep sleep with stored fat. We fight that innate tendency to rest with impending, self-imposed holiday “have-tos,” the shopping, lists, impatience and stress, and compromise our internal systems, and die a little, spiritually and physically. I am not, myself, immune to this pattern, but being aware allows me to re-assess what is truly of value to me, and to wilfully act on that intention.
Viewing cherished memories of past 60-something Autumns fulfills me, evoking a sense of completion, yet the minor-chord realization that I may never return to re-visit. So, yesterday, I finished painting “These Woods I Knew” (Watercolor, 11″ x 15″), re-kindling the bare paths around my favorite poet’s, Robert Frost’s New Hampshire forest home in the silent chill of late-Autumn.