A Thing of Beauty

The early morning sun these days, when summer is fading, feels beyond precious. I lean my face out the window to catch every sun-filled drop offered, while deeply inhaling the fresh air that already speaks of autumn.

A tender meeting as the seasons transition. A tenderness I crave in this tumultuous age. I feel, at times, as if the whole world is on the proverbial streets - these days neatly packaged and summarized behind a screen - voicing discontent and airing their half-researched opinions with a certainty that is so over the top, to me. it smells of deceit.

It’s a shitshow.

Wherever I look.

These invaluable, tender moments, when I wake up with the sun and allow the subtle processes of nature to inform my spirit, are golden: The transition between summer and autumn holds no hostility; they know better than to fight for dominion. Their imperceptible, transitional dance allows for my achy muscles to melt in the heat of the sun, while the crisp air invigorates and makes my insides tingle. No need to fight for space; they simply blend until summer departs like a whisper, leaving me in awe of the autumnal yellow to brown shroud. It’s a thing of beauty, this non-hostile takeover, and I know now how to, not just appreciate it, but also learn from it.

That’s the thing about aging, it’s all about moving attention from the loud, gross, fiery realms of existence and finetuning your engine so it perceives and draws nutrients from the subtle. Our power, muscular, mental, and passionate, diminishes to make space for nuance. And pay attention to the path between this and that, instead of this. Or that.

And the media doesn’t make it easy. I know…Our peers - or those we perceive as our peers - neither.

It seems we still connect best, when there is a common enemy to belittle in unity, like children in the sandbox who never learn to share. Or adults, in relationships where all conversations are about what they did, and how I feel about that. But the invitation to experience the uncertainty contained between the lines, is the gift that aging offers. Which is why I am now being wooed by the blend of the seasons, which I assure you would not have happened just a decade or so ago. My hamster wheel is slowing down, and as reality starts spinning slower, I’m beginning to sense the in-between, the nuance.

One would think, when we have so called leaders who are of a ripe age, that they should represent some of that wisdom that can only be had when there’s been a longer inquiry into the subtle realms of humanity - that after all inform all our choices - but that is so not the case, as I think everyone agrees.

It’s a shitshow

Wherever we look

Just imagine, for a moment, if in order to apply for any role of leadership, you had to complete the equivalent of a one-year meditation retreat. Imagine, first of all, the radical change in the demographic of those who would plead interest. They would not be the power-driven-by-insecurity leaders that we now are subjected to, but people driven by a desire to understand the human condition, and the natural laws that govern life, maybe even look to nature itself to decipher the mystery and grace of existence… Not that those individuals would not be flawed, faulty, and objectionable; that’s just part of the human condition, but they would be aware that they are, and that everyone is.

Then perhaps the decisions that impact everyone would be allowed to take time and be seen in their full complexity. And maybe, instead of going to another country and killing a bunch of innocent people to vent frustration, and draining the natural reserves because we want faster-moving toys, we would prioritize…well, anything other than, I would say, because how on earth are we still doing that, and calling it progress?!

But anyway. I’m rambling…

…Where was I…?

Oh, right, the morning sun and the autumn air. And the perfect dance they portray…

…Still there…, as I let the stream of opinion and feeling evaporate. And it still convinces with quiet authority, that contrast is blendable, and conflict can be handled with love, reason, and perspective. That violence is childish and inefficient.

To return to that feeling, the resolution of the apparent conflict of opposites, is so very difficult at times. But it lies in the heart of all that I practice. That is my prayer. My quiet, insistent revolution.

This summer was a godsend. Since the past year was spent predominantly in struggle, the summer break was a welcome journey back to ease. Spending time with my beautiful family and friends, in the gentle wilderness of my Algarvean home, was healing. Restoring. And it gave me the soft cushion I so needed to land, and a semblance of ground to help me bridge into this third Scandi-year. The last I am staying here for, and with the kid. And then…I suppose, if I were to use the allegory of the seasonal transition: I will move forward into my autumn.

The change from living with Iomi to not living with Iomi, will be impactful, I’m sure. I hope by then, the lesson from Mother Nature has matured enough in me, so I can make that transition with ease. This summer, she has astonished me with her talent and poise, and I can only speculate, but I have a feeling I will be seeing her shine brightly, and I’m thrilled for her.

Our upcoming year already feels like that early morning moment when the sun meets the crisp, and I will sip these last drops of having my baby with me slowly. In full appreciation of the exquisite tenderness of the hours and days. And as I sit here contemplating the blend of melancholy and light that awaits, I do feel calm. Cause even though there is sorrow and pain, baked into chaos and confusion, it’s a thing of beauty this life. As it stretches beyond comfort and the known. It’s simply up to us to bridge each transition with grace.

I hope we will.