Fall is here and everyday when I step out, my surroundings remind me of the brevity of life. And more.
Over the long weekend, I had been to Ottawa to see the fall colors up close and personal. Though this is not my first fall in the North American soil, every time I see nature wear her shades of fall, I am enthralled.
I tell my kids- look at her. She knows this parade of colors isn't forever. She puts up her best fall show while knowing fully well about its impermanence. Who else could tell us about the fleeting nature of all things beautiful and endearing?
More than just the evanescence, the story of the fallen leaves is a lesson in leaving, in saying goodbye gracefully. When the leaves fall, they don't fall all at once, but leaf by leaf. Or, in batches, giving us ample time to watch them fall in rhythm. Unless the wind takes them here and there, they stay put, under the shade of the tree that's bracing for the stillness ahead.
In nature's instruction manual, the leaves must disappear and become one with the earth that holds the tree, her roots and her bark. But in a city-dweller's rule book, they are to be cleaned, packed and sent away to rot in a faraway pile. While the tree looks on, her leaves are taken away.
A tree produces the leaves that it needs. It's a step in her development and growth. It's to play her role in in the larger scheme of things, of life and nourishment. But interestingly, she takes responsibility for what she produces. She uses it to put out another leaf, a bud, a fruit. In a self-sustaining forest system, the trees provide for each other.
It perplexes me how we don't take responsibility for what we create, produce or use. We have redefined nature's laws of impermanence and brevity. Some of the things that we produce, use and throw, stay on the surface of earth for hundreds of years. We are okay with it. We don't even stop to think about it. We think it's someone else's problem. The day we stop to think and take a pause is not far. Hope!
Over the long weekend, I had been to Ottawa to see the fall colors up close and personal. Though this is not my first fall in the North American soil, every time I see nature wear her shades of fall, I am enthralled.
I tell my kids- look at her. She knows this parade of colors isn't forever. She puts up her best fall show while knowing fully well about its impermanence. Who else could tell us about the fleeting nature of all things beautiful and endearing?
More than just the evanescence, the story of the fallen leaves is a lesson in leaving, in saying goodbye gracefully. When the leaves fall, they don't fall all at once, but leaf by leaf. Or, in batches, giving us ample time to watch them fall in rhythm. Unless the wind takes them here and there, they stay put, under the shade of the tree that's bracing for the stillness ahead.
In nature's instruction manual, the leaves must disappear and become one with the earth that holds the tree, her roots and her bark. But in a city-dweller's rule book, they are to be cleaned, packed and sent away to rot in a faraway pile. While the tree looks on, her leaves are taken away.
A tree produces the leaves that it needs. It's a step in her development and growth. It's to play her role in in the larger scheme of things, of life and nourishment. But interestingly, she takes responsibility for what she produces. She uses it to put out another leaf, a bud, a fruit. In a self-sustaining forest system, the trees provide for each other.
It perplexes me how we don't take responsibility for what we create, produce or use. We have redefined nature's laws of impermanence and brevity. Some of the things that we produce, use and throw, stay on the surface of earth for hundreds of years. We are okay with it. We don't even stop to think about it. We think it's someone else's problem. The day we stop to think and take a pause is not far. Hope!
