I go for meandering walks during my lunch hour to take it all in, listening to Leonard Cohen covers and Nick Drake on my iPod to enhance the experience. I am a hopeless case.
There is something inherently familiar and reassuring about the changing of the seasons, and autumn in particular. I feel tethered to rhythms in nature that have persisted for years beyond measure. It puts me in my rightful place, and I am briefly aware of being small part of an intricate cycle that chugs along regardless of how I feel about it or whether I choose to take notice.
The familiar sensations of this season register on a very primal and subconscious level for me, and it awakens something in me where I am briefly more attuned to a larger world. It suddenly becomes more urgent to attend to my surroundings, especially the fleeting sunshine that with each passing day permeates from a lower position in the sky.
The other day I was overwhelmed by the scent of decaying blackberries from the ubiquitous bushes that line a pond nearby; it was such a powerful sensation that it seemed possible not to only smell it, but to hear and witness first-hand the abundant nutrients returning back to the soil. The berries have such a fleeting moment, months of gradual budding, flowering and a brief period of ripeness, followed by inevitable decay.
This perhaps is what makes this time of year so appealing, for all the beauty, smells and colour are really the bi-product of decay, the last gasp of life leading to a state of dormancy. New life will follow soon enough in the months to come, though in that moment of decline there is a profound gift of sublime beauty given to those willing to take notice.
Birth and rebirth in a short span of time. Cycles of life that are integral to who we are as humans, a reminder of the radiance that is life itself and the precious gift that it is.Breathe it in deeply friends.