Falling Leaves

"I watch October maples bare their branches,

and I would have them hold their leaves,

as I have held my tears,

thinking by 

sheer force of will

to stop

the coming winter."

I wrote that 24 years ago, just before leaving my husband.  I was at the beginning of a journey toward

authenticity; I had decided to stop trying to live the life that was expected of me, and to find out if I could 

have a life that would feel true.  I was so afraid.  There was so much inside that I had not yet faced.

And now, 24 years later, I have learned that the fear comes from hiding authenticity; that being true to myself does mean loss at times; that Life has things to throw at me that can drive me to a place of  despair if I cannot learn to accept that I truly need very, very little to be happy.

Over the years I have read books and watched movies and documentaries about WWII and about the Vietnam war, trying to understand the secret of war:  war between countries, between groups, between religions, between strangers, between loved ones, between friends; war within myself.  

Now I try to learn about peace.  I read and read and read; and the more I learn the more I realize that it all comes down to how I spend my time.  I can't force others to behave the way I would like them to.  And I don't have that right, anyway... we all get to make our own choices; and we are all learning how to grow as spiritual beings in this world.  I'm beginning to think that the key, for me, is to find gratitude for the good that I have.  To literally live in gratitude.

When I ate my soup at lunch today, I started to have the old feeling of, "what if this isn't enough?  what if I'm still hungry?"  But then I remembered reading about a man in a pow camp who was desperate to have a cup of swill that I would never eat (never say never); and I was ashamed.  As Americans, we are all so very spoiled.  We want more, and more, and more.  I wonder if I can learn, when those fears come up, to say this prayer:  "Thank you.  Help me be grateful."

I'm not afraid of winter any more.  It is a time of rest, of dormancy, of reflection.

Thank you.  Help me be grateful.