The Rhythm of Nature
Acceptance must come, to deny the end of summer’s gift is foolhardy. It was but a fleeting moment in time, when all seemed possible, when heat and heart soared. But as in nature these dizzy heights cannot be captured and held suspended in time. We have to let go, move on with the seasons, face a new chapter of life.
Few things end abruptly: more oft there is a gradual passing, a fading of that which was held in high regard and despite our best efforts the saturated colour, intense and bursting with life cannot endure the whisper of breathy frost or a shoulder coldly turned. Disbelief turns it’s attention to weary acceptance that once again we allowed ourselves to be smitten, to believe the summer was forever, that we had finally arrived and would be allowed to stay.
The garden decays before our eyes, fruit unripened calls out for late warmth; lush trees which short weeks ago danced in gentle breeze, now shed their leaves in nods of brittle shards impatient to bare their boughs and be at rest once more. When the party is over, we need to withdraw, to reflect and maybe even hide a little until we are ready to emerge once more, to show ourselves, exhibit our work, declare our love. In an era of instant disclosure withdrawal is a bid for freedom, to hide under the covers, to ensconce ourselves in the studio or walk the cliff edge. It is creative, necessary and beautifully subversive of outside interference.
Real loss is to find ourselves stuck, unable or unwilling to embrace the new. Time and again we look back, ruminating, regretting. If only we would turn our attention to the rhythm of nature, to that which new seasons and chapters offer. For beneath the protective cover of leafy decay, we will find hidden beauty, small tender, formerly eclipsed by summer’s glory. Ready, waiting to unfurl towards the future.