Between letting go and landing
The first snow has fallen.
White frost decorates the brittle autumn leaves. Random little spots of ice remind me that it’s time to store away the bike soon.
Nature is in transit…
Glorious September is gone. Puzzling October will soon be over.
The trees are almost bare.
I love the fact that I live in a country with four different seasons. I love the shift that nature performs every breathing moment, manifesting change. Sometimes unmistakable evident; leaves twirling down from the trees in the fall. The sound of running water breaking free in spring.
But most often, change comes creeping.
And we don’t see it until we wake up one morning and find the fields all covered in snow.
It makes me think about our human nature. How we too, are in a moment of constant change (paradoxically as it sounds). And how mornings, moments, lunches, dinners and goodnight’s go by, without us actually realizing that no day will ever be the same.
We are not who we were yesterday.
We won’t be entirely identical, tomorrow.
How does change feel?
If I were a tree, how would I know…
when it was time to let go of my leaves?
We are always looking for signs, but sometimes there are none, except for a notion, an instinct deeply rooted in us.
Vanessa expressed in a blog post a while ago, that she felt like she was “in the air between the letting go and the landing”
Maybe, in the movement of falling, the transformation takes place.