Today I’d like to share one of the prompts from my Enchanted October program, which just wrapped up last week on Halloween. Early November feels like a great time to take a moment and be still, yes?
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“Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.”
–Hermann Hesse

If there is one comfort I can count on, it is the wisdom of the trees. They hold the stories of years gone by, they go through cycles of barren and bloom. Whatever the question, we can look to the trees for the answer.

This time of year in Michigan it is such a delight to watch the changing of the leaves. I love waking up in the morning and laying in bed for a moment to watch the red, orange and gold leaves swaying in the wind. Toward the end of this month and the beginning of next the leaves start to rain down like the most beautiful confetti. My kids love making huge piles of leaves in the backyard and jumping into them.

Today I invite you to consider the sensory delights of this season as your meditation. Find a few minutes, a relatively quiet place, and sit comfortably. Looking around you or out a window, what do you see? Close your eyes, what do you hear? What aromas do you associate with autumn? What tastes? How does it feel to run your fingers over the vein of a fallen leaf? If you can do this outside, breathe in the season, inhaling gratitude for cycles of change…in nature, in life…and exhale peace, knowing that the wind carries the continuum of your story, OUR story.

2 thoughts on “Stillness and the sensory delights of autumn

  1. mary therese

    Autumn, the season of vulnerability, when the great arms of oak stretch their summer leaves to the wild October winds. All that has been life and green is stripped from the strong trees, and the tall, wide branches seem to be deathly wounded. Across the lawns in layers lie the near dead leaves; onto the forest floors they fall as if to say: “all is lost.” This is the season of vulnerability when trees open wide to wounding, when all the summer security is given away to another season. Wiser are the trees than humans who clutch small arms round self, shielding their fragile hearts and stifling future spring times.
    ~Joyce Rupp

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