Lessons From A Rose
First published in the print column, Strictly Haresay
As the long days of summer give way to the golden hours of autumn, I find myself, too, shifting gears with this turn of the season. It’s one of the things I appreciate most about being back in Nebraska—these well-defined seasons—and autumn has always been a favorite of mine.
When the air takes on a crisper note and the sunshine is a little less intense; as the green begins to give itself over to gold; when a day of ninety degrees turn to fifty-five like it just saw a state trooper.
My love for nature has only expanded with age, and I find the changing seasons can be wonderful, natural benchmarks for personal reflection. After all, the seasons of nature mirror humanity and our journey from the spring blossom of birth to the winter finale of death. Studying and being in tune with nature not only can grant a person much peace, but also, sometimes, a bit of insight.
When life seems to be traveling too quickly, or loaded with too many stressors, it is the autumnal season I find most grounding, and perhaps that’s because it reflects the wisdom and rhythm of middle-age—the season in which I find myself at present.
Typically associated with the reaping of the harvest, collecting, and laying away for winter, fall is also a good time for letting things go, as well. Just as the trees release their hold on the leaves—those full crowns that once danced on summer breezes, cast a comforting shade, and provided harbor for the song birds—we too can follow form, and let go of things that no longer serve the season we are in.
Time ticks on and too often we resist the changes that naturally occur simply by the passage of time. We can get stuck trying to hold onto things that once upon a time served us well, or gave us joy, or helped us through, even when our present circumstance no longer fits those same needs. Most of us don’t like change.
But change doesn’t have to be a negative experience, or a scary one. The paradox of releasing and letting go of those things no longer pertinent or relevant—be they old habits, ways of thinking, or people with whom we spend time—is the sense of groundedness in the present we can gain. And that’s important, whether you’re nineteen or ninety you’re only going to be that age for a given amount of time, and never again. Best to live each age—each day—to its fullest for its own merits.
Just as the trees in autumn show us how lovely it can be to let things go, we too, can let go, and let things be.
When we look to nature, we can see the gentle rhythm playing out through the seasons, and we can trust the process of growth and flowering, dormancy and renewal. And if we’re wise, we will seek to emulate those with the same grace as the beautiful—though quite ephemeral—summer rose.
