The leaves are falling quickly now. It’s been dry and warm during the day, but in the evenings, we’ve seen purple vapors in the sky, too thin and spread out to call “clouds.” They remind me, in some ways, of the “Angel of Death” in the Ten Commandments! Except that they are purplish rather than green. They endure for less than 30 minutes in the evening, and then are gone. The moon, as a slender crescent, seems obscured behind them, like a distant dancing girl behind veils of mist. There’s a stillness and quiet that descends over the countryside while this transpires. It’s a lovely Autumn atmosphere, evoking a painfully sweet sense of the passing of days and the coming of long nights.
I find myself wondering, “What have I accomplished, what remains undone? What has been lost, and what now exists? Where have my priorities been?Where should they be now?”
Yet, during the day, all is light and warmth, in some ways almost painfully dry and warm! The leaves crackle like crazy, so dry are they. The pine trees are even turning brown this year. And yet, with El Nino off the coast, this is supposed to be a wetter year (in California). But that may yet be so.
I find myself noticing cemeteries more often, the old listing stones, the rough iron grates. Samhain was traditionally a recognition of those who’ve gone before and an opportunity to be thankful for what gifts they bequeathed in their lives to those who follow. I find it also a time to contemplate my own inevitable demise.
The earth seems inviting in some ways, with its vast, dark silence and peace. The acorns scattered profligately over the ground this year inspire a sense of great fecundity and that the earth is filled with treasure, everywhere. Planting the body eventually, perhaps soon, perhaps later, into the earth feels like taking off the yoke of hard work to rest in the company of a blessed nurturing force.
I have the image of descending a rough, damp stone staircase under the great gnarled roots of old trees, past the thick heady loam of the forest, under the rough red soil, to find a deep, open cavern, warmed by glorious fires and teeming with sleepless revelers, who, robustly laughing, pound affectionately on my back as I enter, and welcome me to the true life.
Autumn Portal
