Giving Thanks for What Is Being Gathered

I raked some leaves today and put them on a tarp. The leaves are all crinkled and brown now, shriveled remnants of their former selves; the trees that held them are all stark naked, yet still looking somehow graceful.

There is a falling away energy at this time of year, but also a gathering energy. As leaves collected and the perennial plants draw energy inward, you can feel this palpable sense of energy being gathered and stored. I can feel the draw of my own energy inward, wanting to stay at home at night, curl up under a throw, and read a good book.

At the edge of my yard, a huge maple tree stands naked against the coming winter. Its roots reach down into the earth and spread across my yard. Its branches reach to the sky. It is stately, calm, even receptive.

Autumn teaches us the intelligence of falling away energy. Through the lens of this season, we can look at our individual and shared worlds and our global challenges and understand that it is okay to have a time when things fall away and energy goes underground.

When I consider this in the context of my back yard, I see the wind moving the trees, and gently swaying the rope that my son swings on in summer. I know that if I am grateful for what is here now -- the leaves, the naked trees, the cold -- I will not try to push the spring. New growth and life will come eventually, just as it always does.

Mantra of Stillness, Using the Four Elements

Breathing in, I am a rock.
Breathing out, I am timeless.

Breathing in, I am a well.
Breathing out, I am stillness.

Breathing in, I am the breath.
Breathing out, I am this moment.

Breathing in, I am a flame.
Breathing out, I am illumined.

Praciticing Compasion

Practicing Compassion: Taking Time to Appreciate Who Is Here

Trees give of themselves constantly. They are always giving shade, giving leaves for compost, giving their woody scent, and even their majesty.

It doesn't take much to be compassionate. Sometimes it is a matter of just taking time to be yourself, offering just who you are to another human being.

Mother Theresa is famous for saying that the worst poverty she ever saw-- in the course of a lifetime of work with the destitute poor -- was the poverty of loneliness experienced in the West.

We are so busy here.

But we could pause more. Pause and be, with a neighbor, with a spouse. With a clerk at the store. With a child. With a parent. With a co-worker. We could pause and be with just one more person a day, to slow things down a just a little bit more. Not the one-second, "Who are you; I'm fine, how are you." But going to the next sentence, where you begin to experience a connection.

When you stop, and take a moment, you may think you are reaching out for the sake of the other person. But you also reach out for your own sake. In reaching out, your heart has a moment to breathe and to be as big as your heart wants to be and needs to be.

You get to experience, even if for a moment, what it is like to be a tree.