A Space for Things that Matter

The red leaf dancing in the morning sun reminded me of it, this thing that matters. It can be illusive, but the leaf reminded me of such things.

There are reminders everywhere, all around.

But they are missed.

I miss them.

Caught up in self-importance, we run right over the fallen Aspen leaf, golden and resplendent on the ground. Brilliant yellow that you are, your song of transitions and beauty is right here before our very eyes.

Right there in front of me.

Do I hear you? Do I see you?

Or, is my schedule such that I no longer see?

I no longer hear.

I no longer breathe.

But my heart does. It yearns and moves and reaches towards that which nurtures, that which feeds, that which changes my perspective to one of humility.

The transition of fall mutes the sharp corners of summer. The reds, burnt oranges, and golden hues in the fields call me to slowness.

Slow down.

You are the reminder I need, one of change and turning in. We turn in to nurture ourselves, to protect, like the leaves turning and falling to protect the tree.

The tree continues to pull its nutrients from the earth and reach towards the sky. Invisible to us, it continues on, like us, during the winter of our own lives.

We pull in what’s important and shed the leaves of what no longer serves us.

We must.

And as the earth warms once again, buds pop and flowers bloom. We too, stretch and move, and adorn our hearts with joy and laughter.

But today, I snuggle in to the transition. I snuggle in to what feeds me on this chilly morning with the dancing red leaves and rising sun.

I stretch into that space that matters.

Call to Action: What matters to you?