the grace of change

I’m sitting outside in the sunshine, alone on this beautiful Fall day. My husband is putting the baby down for a nap and I have the rare occasion of a simple peace, knowing she is safe and I don’t have to listen for her. It is amazing and overwhelming to think back on the last year of all that has come to pass, and all that hasn’t. Being a new mother again has sent me through such whirlwind emotions. How different things have been this time around. How much harder to find my center of balance.

I didn’t celebrate the Equinox this year. Not on a personal level at least. My niece turned 5 and my dear friend 30, which are both very important events. I spent my energy that day on them, wanting to show them how wonderful they both are; to me and to the rest of the world. In that sense I suppose I did celebrate, by allowing the focus to be on others instead of dwelling on my own frustration or hardship; which, even through complaint is very mild.

One thing fall teaches me is the grace of change. Flowing~ not fighting with it.

Yesterday was a particularly difficult one. There was nothing terrible or out of the ordinary necessarily. Just typical and ornery bad day blues: Dog hair everywhere, cranky baby, dirty diapers, nonchalant husband, teenage dramas, project deadlines. Yep, normal day. But I was not handling it well. So around 4:00 I decided to get over myself and go for a walk with the baby. The sky was gray but the sun had been peeking. It looked promising. I got to the end of the drive and it started to rain. Rather than sulk, curse and give up I just went and got an umbrella and we took a walk in the gentle shower.

On the way home I was struck by a particularly beautiful patch of the sidewalk path. Surrounded with trees of changing colors that were releasing their spent leaves on the ground, and the sky an ominous but magnificent shade of purple gray as a backdrop to this kaleidoscope of Fall, I let go. I would have cried if I’d had the sense to know what I was crying for. But I was just an observer in that change, not a participant. How lovely it seemed, with no regrets giving into the transition, releasing the great exhale that gifts us with Autumn.

I need to remember to take more walks, to be just an observer of my life sometimes, and to stop holding my breath to change. Even as I write this, I am just now learning the lesson of my own story. Sometimes that’s what it takes.


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