It is early November when the autumn-angled sunlight plays with yellows and reds of tree leaves in a dance of colors. Between the time when summer transitions to fall and fall to winter, the angle in which we receive the sun’s rays shifts closer to the horizon as its more direct rays fall on the Southern Hemisphere. The light, therefore, comes in to a forest or grove of trees from a more oblique angle rather than overhead. As leaves twist in the breeze, the broadside of the leaf catches the sunlight and then passes it to the thin side of the leaf before receiving it again. The leaves at this time of year are not as robust as they once were and hang more loosely to the tree. A light breeze can send them into an energized frenzy of movement or off of the tree altogether.
With such movement, they douse the forest with a show of light and colors. The leaves at this time of the year are also worn and sometimes tattered. Not only is the light reflected on the leaf but holes and tears on the leaf let sunlight through to the forest floor in haphazard bursts. Upon closer inspection, you can see that some leaves have what looks like netting within them where the leaf has largely worn away but the veins are still present. Some leaves are ripped or partially eaten, while others have brown spots from disease or other defects.
They are far from the fresh new leaves of spring. They have weathered storms and converted materials to tree matter using the energy of the sun. They have sheltered birds and served as food to insects.
And soon, the tree will let them go. Much of the time I think we are carrying around stuff in the same way as a tree would be if they kept their leaves year after year. Could you imagine a springtime where leaves would emerge as they were at the end of summer or if they remained in place year after year? Tattered, tough, half eaten, and worn? Even non-deciduous trees drop their leaves or needles yearly so new ones can emerge.
When we hold on to past hurts and pain, or don’t love ourselves, or think we are not worthy of hope and joy, we continue to carry these painful “leaves” around from years ago. They are worn and ripped. We cling to the tattered leaves because we know them and feel as though they are part of who we truly are. The pain can become so embedded, it acts as if we would not be who we are without it. But it is not who we truly are. Letting go and change are hard, even when the things are not good for us.
But letting go frees us and allows for new growth.
As trees let go of their leaves in the fall, we also benefit from letting go of aspects of ourselves that we no longer need or that are not good for us. We cling to so much – stuff, ideas, emotions, images, perceptions – that cloud our spirit and hold us back from growth. One of the big things that many of us hold onto for dear life is control, or rather, the sense of control. We want to be in control of our lives, our futures, our emotions, our thoughts, our circumstances, and it can be easy to perceive that you are in control of all these things.
We can learn from trees by dropping the emotions, motivations, and drives that may have served us well, but are no longer needed. Some of these “leaves” we need to drop may take years to fall away, but we can also practice letting go of the smaller stuff too. When taking a walk outside after work, my mind is often racing with thoughts about what has happened during the day, what I need to get accomplished before night, what I should fix for dinner and I completely miss the dragonfly that lands on the fence line beside me and the sound of papery beech leaves rustling in the breeze. Allowing the thoughts to let go and fall away enables me to remain open to the present moment.
And that is how we can start. Practice catching yourself thinking about the next few hours or what occurred earlier in the day, and many times you may realize that small thoughts fill most of your time. “What did he mean by that comment?” “What if the spot on my shirt was noticeable throughout the entire day? Was it there during my meeting?” “Will I get home in time to fix the chicken or should I just plan on making grilled cheeses?” As these thoughts clutter your mind, the sensations of the present moment pass by unnoticed. The first step is just noticing what you are thinking about. The second step is to choose to come back to the present. How does the sip of coffee taste? Is your office air cold or warm on your skin? How is the sunlight striking the wall or the road in front of you?
Allow leaves to serve as a reminder to you. As you witness a leaf float to the ground, shift your thoughts to the present. As you see leaves from last year piled up against the building, contemplate leaves you may not know you even are hanging on to – past hurts and pains – and how you may go about letting them go (this may take time (potentially lots of time) and talking with friends, a therapist, or a religious leader). I believe this is a life-long process that takes daily effort. Trees lose their leaves every year, it is not a one-time event but rather an ongoing process.
(Image: beech tree leaves)
Nature is Sacred 