Falling leaves & personal transformation take their own sweet time

Reflections on Falling Leaves

I’ve always admired the majesty of ginkgo trees as they turn bright yellow in the Autumn air. I learned this year, that ginkgos lose all their leaves within a day’s time. It’s a magical experience to watch the golden leaves rain down all around you. Don’t blink, or you’ll miss it. There’s just something romantic about it!

Last week, after bagging 8 lawn bags of leaves, I looked up at the trees over the yoga studio thinking, “Wouldn’t it be nice if you all (the trees) would just drop your leaves all at once like the ginkgo, so I could get on with other things I want to do, and the studio would be all neat and tidy???”

Well, the trees didn’t listen. It seems I’m destined to be surrounded by trees that hold onto their leaves—dropping just enough to make a mess all the way through December and beyond. This is not at all romantic or spectacular.

Reflections on Personal Transformation

In addition to cleaning up leaves last week, I also spent time on my birthday honoring the past year and burning away all the things I no longer need to create room for the new year ahead. I was determined to stay around the fire until the last tiny embers went dark to symbolize a full and complete release. I certainly didn’t know going into this adventure that my fire would last nearly 7 hours. Just when I thought it was going out, the flames would flicker higher and burn hotter than before.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish for the fire just go out multiple times throughout the process. I considered throwing water on it or covering it over with earth, but I reminded myself, I was dedicated to being with the fire until its end.

While tending to the fire, I had plenty of time to reflect on personal transformation. I realized that I’m much more like the Maple trees surrounding the studio that hold onto their leaves than the ginko tree that dumps everything all at once in a glamorous show. I admire people who, like the ginkgo, drop everything when it’s time—seemingly freeing up all their energy at once to move to the next thing. Like the maple, I realized, I’m quite impatient with myself during times of slow transformation. I want to shake the limbs of my life to get those remaining bits I’m holding onto to just let go already!

A tender sadness flowed through every bit of me as I realized the impatience I’ve been harboring towards myself all these years. Impatience at the lessons I’ve needed to revisit (sometimes dozens of times) because I didn’t learn them the first time around. Impatience at the slow moving transformation during times when I desperately wanted to grow. Impatience at my stuckness and stubbornness around change.

I allowed this grief to move me and move through me, and offered it to the fire. A peace came over me—an assurance that the timing of my life is just like the timing of the maple leaves and the timing of this lingering flame—perfect just as it is.

For now, I’m at peace with my pace—with the messiness of my becoming. There’s beauty in the mess. Perhaps I’ll remember the perfection of my own timing tomorrow, or maybe I’ll feel that familiar impatience again (because I do so love to revisit the lessons I’ve learned from time to time). Either way—-today, I recognize the beauty in slow transformation in myself and the world around me.

What about you?

The slow-burning fire and timed release of Autumn leaves seems to reflect my personal rhythms. What signs in nature reflect your personal flow? Do you find yourself befriending your rhythms or romanticizing something other than your true nature? How do you move into an appreciation for yourself and the world around you? I’d love to hear from you.