I switched up my morning routine this summer. I no longer return home to meditate after my joyfully fast-paced walk on the lake path. Instead, I find stillness beside the water. After all, why would I settle for my cushion when I can be surrounded by beauty that speaks to my soul?
There are a handful of spots I return to again and again: a boulder overlooking the lake with views of mountains north and west; a downward slope of earth perfect for sitting with an upright posture; another with just enough space to lie down, feet mere inches from the water.
And this one, beautiful grasses rising above my head, gone to seed now and swaying in the breeze. Swallows dip and soar over the lake in crazy patterns for the sheer delight of flight, as well as for the tasty insects that have burst onto the scene from a recent hatch.
Birds chitter in various patterns and pitches, and small animals rustle in the undergrowth. I know that I have not only come back to the lake this morning, but back to myself once more. I hush my own chitter and rustle, and open to the thrumming magnificence of life.
* * * *
I'm back home now. The house is cool after a night with windows opened wide, making necessary a long-sleeved shirt over my summer tee. Autumn is on its way. As I type these words for you, I'm thinking of cycles and circles and the inevitable creep of time.
I retire this month from a 45-year career as psychotherapist. What a privilege it has been to earn a living through such soulful work, to have had the honor of sitting with person after person in moments of profound change and breakthrough.I truly don't know who I would have become without this vocation. Engaging with those committed to deep transformation has fueled my own propensity to not remain stagnant myself, to respond consciously to what life brings my way, to turn even the hardest passage toward the good.
I am grateful beyond measure. And yet I know it is time now to let it go. I must step away from what is familiar and cherished in order to move into whatever comes next. It is time to walk into the unknown. Of course, we do that every minute of every day. There are, however, certain junctures where the mystery of the not-yet-revealed looms particularly large and calls us to it. The closing down of a career is often one of those times.
It seems fitting that I retire as summer bleeds into autumn, the huge change in my own life mirrored in the natural world where tall grasses have gone to seed. I don't know what will sprout and prove viable from my own seeds generated over a lifetime, but I'm ready to find out.
A Joni Mitchell song comes unbidden...
"And the seasons, they go round and round/And the painted ponies go up and down/We're captive on the carousel of time/We can't return, we can only look behind/From where we came/And go round and round and round in the circle game."
Such a nostalgic song. What appeals to me about it from my current vantage point is not nostalgia, though there is sadness, often piercing, at the goodbyes of this coming month. It is just that, more and more, my gaze lands on the future where the next painted ponies will appear. I can't see them, of course, but I do hear them. Their whinnies call to me now. Though the metaphor strains a bit, I feel them nickering in my bones. Theirs is an urging every bit as insistent as was the call to psychotherapy decades ago.
One line in Joni's song does not ring true for me. I do not feel myself a captive of time. I feel such encouragement to get off the carousel that has given me an immensely beautiful ride to leap into something new. So leap I shall, though I know not where such leaping will lead.
No matter where your own life has brought you and what painted ponies are going round and round on your current carousel, you just might feel the next stage of your own life whickering in your bones. It matters little whether it be a minor adjustment or a major change. What's important is answering that call with a resounding and heartfelt yes...and not worrying overmuch about what it will look like. Its exact shape, after all, cannot be realized now.
If we listen closely, though, we can hear the whinnies of what-is-not-yet-here calling us. We need only answer with heart and soul, and trust guidance will come. For guidance is ever available in each season of this circle game.
So walk on, my friend. As autumn arrives, look fondly on the path behind you as you gather up the seeds from a lifetime of learning and growth, and begin to release them into the world. And when you're ready to do more, don't just walk, or even run. Leap, dear one! Leap!!!
Much love...and love much!
Leia
