I have a friend who has a wonderful coaching business and a great website. She's a fellow perfectionist and has a lot of great things to say. She posted a blog about fall and loss and it really resonated with me. Fall is my favorite season. I love the colors. I love the weather. My birthday is near Halloween and I have so many cherished childhood memories of this time of year. And yet, the combination of this time of the year and this season in my life prompted me to do some additional self-care this morning. I went on a leaf hunt, like we do with our kids. But I did it alone. I did it without being prepared (I got very wet!) and I just chased after all the beautiful trees in my area that I keep driving by and admiring. I got all up in them and breathed and picked up their discarded leaves and I exhaled my pain. This poem and these pictures came as a result.
The transition swift, inexact, excruciating
I feel out of control, targeted, brutalized
The pain is hot but also cold with terror
Sometimes fall comes to places you thought were safe
The leaves start falling and you can't pick them up fast enough
They don't ask permission
The trees transition at random
Not just the ones you don't mind losing
But some of the ones most precious and dear
The colors change swiftly
The leaves start falling indiscriminately
But I didn't authorize this!
I scream, I cry, I panic
This leaving, this impending death
No, I didn't.
But the seasons change around us still.
The winds rise up and take what they want
They don't seem to know or care
About what falls down
They're already off to another place
Another tree
Another life.
In the wake of the destruction I feel shell-shocked
How did this happen
Why couldn't I stop it
Don't I have a say in what stays or goes
No. No I don't.
In the midst of it all,
I look around and see beauty
There is so much beauty in loss
In pain, in death
It's horrible and it's devastating
But life is on the other side of it
I can't see it now
But I've lived through enough falls
and desolate winters to know
Spring is coming.
It's not soon enough and there's a lot of darkness
in between me and that light
But it is coming.
And so I hibernate
I grieve.
I find beauty.
I hold pain.
I don't fling it around.
Pain becomes art,
becomes new life, growth and even
Hope.