Autumn and the fall of our lives (part 1&2)

Autumn and the Fall of Our Lives
By Val Silver

(A note: Part 1 was submitted earlier. Here is the entire article and is best read that way. Thanks for reading!)
Often, while riding my bike I travel a familiar country road. Since my ride last week, the difference in the air, the scenery, the feeling of the landscape was amazing. It is only mid-September, yet fall is arriving as surely as summer is ending. The days may be warm and sunny, but the nights are chilly enough to bring thoughts of flannel and socks.

Summer has not, after all, entirely gone. Amidst the encroaching brown of autumn, flowers bloom. The bright pink of the impatiens, once a cheery sight, now seem only to clash with the burnt orange of the mums and falling leaves. Many trees are still fully green, even as the red, orange and yellow of others appear.

We had a cool wet summer here in Northern New York and the grass grew green and lush. Yet as I ride along, I can’t help but notice how, even with the rains, lawns appears a bit browner. The goldenrod flowers are thick and fading. Cattails in the marsh are tipped with brown. Farmers bale up the last of a bumper crop of hay. The fields are cut and readied for their winter rest.

The farmers aren’t the only ones taking advantage of this summer-like Saturday. Neighbors are out mowing lawns, clipping trees, having conversation. No one comments on the fallen leaves that get mowed as well. A woman sits out with her yard sale goodies. Cottagers are preparing to close up for the season. There’s almost a feeling of urgency in air. Soon it will be too cold for all this outdoor work and visiting.

But then, as often happens as I continue musing, my mind begins to follow it’s own trails. It asks, “How is the season of autumn like the fall of our lives?” At first I tried to answer seriously, but then my responses became more humorous.

Like the impatiens, we are more showy, exuberant and bold in our summer. As autumn approaches we mellow a bit, become more subdued, our colors deepen like the mums. Or a fine wine.

The fading flowers? Well, that’s like what happens to my hair color. Not too many years ago it was a lovely dark brown. Sometimes it still is, thanks to Lady Clairol and faithful re-coloring.

Which leads to the next similarity. All those brown-tipped leaves? That is like the graying of our hair of course! Still plenty of natural color left, I think, but the gray is taking over. Unless you’re like my husband and the tree down the road. They lost their color a while ago!

And like the plants with weighed down stems, our skin begins to sag a bit. We lose that youthful, fresh appearance. Some of us may try to cover it all up with a bit too much make-up, making us look like the impatiens amongst the mums.

Now I don’t say all this to be depressing. Many people say that fall is their favorite time of year. The weather is lovely, and with less heat, we become more productive. The leaves are beautiful, the colors muted, earthy. Roads have less traffic. Life feels quieter, more peaceful. You can feel it in the air.

I think we are also like that. When I ask an older woman her favorite age, she usually answers without hesitation. Her fifties were the best. Our bodies aren’t what they used to be. Some of us try to fight this. We’ve been conditioned to believe that aging is a bad thing, that youth is to be venerated. But there’s a reason that many cultures respect and honor the most aged. That is because they possess what youth cannot. Wisdom.
(to be continued…)

Part 2.

Before we continue, let’s set the record straight. I am not for a moment suggesting that I am delighted to have my skin lose its tone or my hair its color. Nor is it pleasant that my body can do less work with more effort, that I now need glasses to read, or that I only have to think about food to gain weight, whereas before I at least got to eat it. Like the seasons, my body is in transition between summer and autumn. It is slowing down. Part of me wants to hold onto the summer even as fall begins to indelibly stake its claim.

That’s where wisdom comes in. I have gained the wisdom to know and accept that aging is a natural part of life. It is not something we can fight, nor am I sure we should want to. Yes, I would want to be as fit and pretty as I was at thirty-five, but not at the price of losing the wisdom and the serenity that accompanies later life. To everything there is a season. I accept that how we age, however, is a result of gene pools, stress level and lifestyle choices. Over that I have some responsibility and control. It may be necessary to spend thousands of dollars on surgeries to look young again, but looking good comes by making positive choices about how we eat, exercise and respond to life!

The other day while channel surfing I saw a show about aging. It showed two racquetball players aged about ten years apart. The narrator attributed the older player’s winning of the game to his wisdom. He had the ability to read the movements of the ball and his competitor. Even though he took significantly fewer steps, he was more efficient with those steps. My father has often said the same thing about business. Younger people may have quicker minds (and better eyesight), but they lack the wisdom of the more seasoned people.

More importantly, wisdom brings with it a peace and inner knowing. A few years ago when I was going through my mid-life crisis, I was obsessed with asking the age-old questions, “Who am I?” and “Why am I here?” After coming through this turbulent time, when many of my beliefs about life were shaken to their core, I had my answer. That answer was simply, “I don’t know, I am who I am.”

“I don’t know.” I’ve come to believe that within those words lies the core of wisdom deep within us. Perhaps it is the wisdom of the soul. Perhaps within the space of “I don’t know” lies the freedom to just allow what is. I don’t know. What I do know is that instead of this awareness creating great upheaval as it once did, it brought a deep sense of acceptance and peace that remains to this day.

As a young person, like many, I thought I had all the answers. Maybe teens are onto something when with all the energy of spring, they think they know it all and their parents don’t know anything. Their mistake, obviously, is in thinking their fount of wisdom and knowledge is greater than of those who’ve lived much longer. Of course we do have knowledge. There are things we know, and things we know how to do. That’s not what I’m talking about.

What I am talking about are the beliefs we cloak ourselves in. Beliefs about who we are, who others are or aren’t, what God is or isn’t, what truth is and what is a figment of someone else’s imagination. All of this is usually accompanied with tolerance for “non-believers “ at best, and disdain or pity at worst.

Like many, I was contained in a box of beliefs. If there was a lack of congruency within my being and that system, I’d assume I must be wrong. I’d try to get myself to fit in the box. But wisdom is wiser than that. Instead of having “answers”, which weren’t answers at all, what I had was unrest. How could I not? “As within, so without.” My inner self spoke to me through my feeling, getting louder and more unsettled, until I listened.

Let’s be honest here. Much of what we accept as truth, we learned in childhood. The only reason there are different belief systems about so many things is because we were taught different things, whether directly or by osmosis. On one hand, this encourages people to band together, to live or move within groups of shared beliefs. We see this in religion, politics, communities and organizations, just to name a few. What the holding of these beliefs also causes, however well-meaning or not, is separation. And separation causes war, first in our minds and then as an outward expression. Again, “as within, so without.”

How can we have peace on a grand scale when we do not have it within ourselves? I remember being told about two local churches that tried to merge into one building to save money. Despite being in the same building at the same time, believers X sat on one side, and believers Y sat on the other. When it came time to say the “Our Father” one group said “forgive us our trespasses”, and one group said, “forgive us our sins”. Divided by this one word they eventually parted ways. Unfortunately, such examples are not the exeption.

So “I don’t know”. I don’t know how the universe was formed or how it continues to expand. I do know that even trying to comprehend it fills me with wonder and awe. I don’t know where truth and fiction merge in what’s left of my belief system. I do know it’s okay because I feel more in tune with the Divine than ever. There is no box big enough to contain it anyway. I don’t know what tomorrow or the next day will bring. I anticipate there will be cause for both joys and sorrows, and I do know that it all too shall pass.

I do know that when I admit to “I don’t know”, I open myself to possibilities for wonder and awe, the possibility to learn and embrace what will come my way. I know that I am okay with you being who you are, even when I’d prefer you behave differently. I know that despite my perceived failings, I accept myself. That what I choose to change in myself is best if I make it not a fight, but a flow. I know that even what I believe to be true now can come under the big “I don’t know” in the future. And I’m okay with that because, at least for now, I believe that this is the beginning of wisdom, the gift of autumn. And who knows what winter will bring.

Val is a teacher, a minister of healing, and Emotional Freedom Technique Practitioner. Visit her website or contact Val at: www.tapinfinity.com