Before a new moon, I set great intention. New moons are special, much like this season, Autumn, shedding leaves precious to the limbs of trees, dying things that bring beauty to this Earth, to us, humans, observing the full circle of life.
Autumn brings me to my knees in a most humbled state of being. I imagine the tree in spring, waiting all winter, hibernating like the bear, waiting for the ice princess to take her last breath, welcoming new buds, tiny green leaves, sprouting from every limb.
How utterly glorious.
Right this moment, I am one with the spirit of a tree. I am tall and stark against the spring skyline, my eyes flutter open and once again, there to greet me, are my buds soon to be leaves that will provide me shade and keep my brow cool from the blazing summer sun.
This relationship is twofold, manifested, synchronized and perfect. There is giving and receiving. There is equanimity, there is pure divine love emanating from a solitary tree.
We must learn from nature.
I feel the buds blooming; they are brand new souls on this Earth responsible to me, this tree, in order to keep me flourishing and beautiful. The leaves will make sure the birds have a place to berth and that critters have homes to take respite from their day. The sky above me looks down lovingly upon my treetop, happy to have such a sight to wake up to every dawn. The leaves empower each limb to reach that much further up to the heavens, kissing the sky.
I accept these gifts, such utter grace and allow the leaves, critters, birds and even humans, to settle upon my limbs, to take solace within my embrace, to travel upwards, climbing my weary spine.
There is happiness from this connection, this birth of rebirths, and this ultimate bond.
I have witnessed this a million times and this year, I am not simply an observer. This year, I am the tree, the leaves, the critters, the birds, the sky and the Earth, that selflessly grounds the roots of the mighty tree feeding this entire family, this union, along with the sun, healing them all with light, and I am reminded then of Autumn and this coming new moon.
Leaves glow like red hot embers escaping fire to radiant orange, sun splashed yellow, burnt sienna, and finally, gold. All at once, sometimes the same tree, even one leaf.
I walk the woods crunching as quietly as possible, clambering upon the precious forest bed with my clumsy human self. I hear nothing, nothing but my footfalls in the lovely silence of nature. Then the birds, they flit like butterflies from one tree to another.
I crane my neck to catch a glimpse and they are busy in their playfulness and outsmart me repeatedly. I catch a blackbird perched and a red-bellied woodpecker along with woodcocks and bluebirds and they are all together. They sing for me there, standing in the woods, among death and dying things, showing me life.
Right there everything around me changes, the height of the trees and the width of logs, the colors are intense, deeper, and the birds, they know I understand their speech.
I do not wish to leave this place, this is holy, right here, me in the middle of the woods, no humans around, no sound but the breath of nature, the wind swaying the leaves lazy, the birds chattering, the brittleness beneath my feet, leaves screaming their dying breath to the sky.
Yes, it is Autumn. A time of preparation as the new moon approaches. I learn to let go, to come back into myself, my body, to be present, yet awake with immense intent put forth with each footfall above for my future and those I hold dear in my heart.
Like the tree, I shed leaves. This is my path, my purpose, my knowing, my immense pleasure to stand sentinel and wave my arms wild and free and shake my soul to the sky and the Earth and watch everything I love fall from me and around my feet like a psychedelic bridal gown.
I belong to no one. I walk, pulling roots gently from dirt, taking with me leaves, swaying on my train and I dance in circles, leaves all around me, and great golden supplications fall from heaven freeing my soul from weights carried this season.
It is a time for forgiveness. This is the season of death and dying things.
This is the phoenix preparing to rise.
Words and photo © Susan Marie