Things are pretty heavy right now. The election. The virus. The fires. The hurricanes. Everyone is feeling it, to some degree. And sometimes having compassion for others can feel like walking on eggshells— it’s a lot of effort, and my energy is deeply depleted.
I’ve been isolating a lot. It’s hard to know whom I can trust at this time. My emotional fuses are all pretty damn short and I’ve been crying a lot more than usual.
Today I took my dog for a walk and I noticed that the path was littered with leaves. Not colorful-happy-crunchy leaves. These leaves were slick and rotting, clotted to each other after a night of rainfall, and looking quite drab under a weighted gray sky.
I started to think in metaphors.
As I looked at the ground, strategizing my next steps, all I could see was evidence of what used to be, and what has been lost. Looking up, the world around me was stark: empty and dreary. The wind cut through my sweatshirt. I felt uncomfortable, vulnerable, and fragile.
When we officially entered the season of Autumn, I acknowledged that it is the Season Of Letting Go. I talked about why it’s necessary, and how it’s a process that includes a re-integration of what is released. And I called attention to beauty of the season.
But it’s also important to acknowledge this part of it: the feeling of loss and nakedness that can result. The discomfort and disorientation that follows when the world as you knew it falls away.
It’s all part of the natural cycles of nature, and I find that immensely comforting. Yet, it also sucks. And sometimes it’s necessary to sit with that.
Sometimes, the best you can do is seek shelter and nourish yourself as best you can.
As the past continues to fall away, and we begin to see more clearly through the literal and metaphorical tree branches, I hope you are holding space for your own emotional stirrings. Remember to sit quietly, breathe, and be gentle with yourself. This season will eventually run its course, but not before the great spirit of infinite wisdom says it’s time to move on.