We are experiencing an extended Fall in this part of the world this year. Vibrant colours, warm weather, and the rains have been held up – perhaps at customs?
In the wake of the pandemic, the euphemistically named Climate Change – "Let me slip into something less comfortable" – has been manifesting in serious ways, and for realz, in everyone's local domain.
This Fall has been a gentle one here. Cyclone Bombs have failed to manifest, Atmospheric Rivers have been diverted elsewhere, and our Canadian wildfire smoke was funnelled directly south. All this fancy footwork and slidey pseudo-naming feel like more attempts at distracting attention from what's actually happening.
I have always marvelled at the extent of the Fall drop. I didn't grow up with this seasonal event in my psyche, and it always feels like a bit of a strange and foreign thing. To my tropical mind, all these trees dropping the entirety of their load of leaves, and nuts and acorns and so on – by the ton – wow, it can seem like such a waste, I mean they took so much energy to make!
And yet every year there's the massive, communal letting go – and of course, there is no waste happening here. The leaves are simply taking their annual road trip into the ground and then they'll be back – all refreshed and renewed, just like that. It's an act of successive transmogrification via a kind of atomization – like a muddy version of Star Trek Teleportation. The leaves let go, they get assimilated (by the Borg?) and then they get ported back (Beam me up, Scotty!) through the Transporter mechanics of trunk and branches.
I wonder if each of the leaves recomposes itself back in the same spot it had before? Kind of like showing up to your classroom after vacation, and knowing where you're your seat is? Hey, that's my spot, I was here last time! I'm sure leaves are much more civil – maybe the sharing of Stories and Adventures with the Borg is what we hear as the rustling of leaves.
Fall helps me reframe letting go. Resistance is Futile, and besides, by the time I think of holding on – it's already too late!
Thanks for reading and indulging!