Let Go: Beauty at Winter’s Edge
(3-minute read)
Once green chlorophyll breaks down, the other pigments are unmasked. But the crackles become dust, as do human wrinkles . . . and cat's whiskers, too.
After the bloom of spring and just beyond the raging abundance of summer, autumn sits at the winter’s edge. It’s when we are glad to see things die, though we don’t admit this.
We long for change, always will. So we might learn to get better at grieving things.
We call the autumn season “The Fall”, as if it were a bad thing. And we’re always finding ways to avoid the ending of the summer, including creating the most extravagant celebrations and holidays for the darkening months ahead.
Our yearn to fill the empty horizon with parties and holy days has made perhaps the most abundant season of the year for a lot of us. Families gather. We even plan to welcome God, however one describes the mystery, into our lives.
Colorado Sunrise (courtesy of R. Rawlings © 2022)
It’s just so right that the super-abundance of life on earth has to push itself out of existence.
Be it a jungle, or a human life, time cleans away the abundance and makes way for a renewal. It’s all designed to give ‘way.
And the grieving that comes when we witness the end of things is an untapped comfort, too.
My cat, a year before she died. She had a disease and I choose to release her from its clutches. (Muschi, 2009-2022)
My heart breaks every time I remember my relationship with my cat, who I had to euthanize with only a moment’s notice warning. Yet during my crying, all I remember is the joy of having her around.
Just like autumn is as beautiful as the winter to come, and certainly as gorgeous as the newborn seasons of spring and summer, so are tears, if you notice how restored you will feel afterwards.
So, the sun is gorgeous and it is dangerous.
Loving is wonderful
and it is painful.
And I must observe how everything bedazzles and destroys . . . at some time or another.
Read A Winter Story Here: A Solstice Christmas (Recollection No. 100)
