Darkness is your candle*

October ushers in a sense of new beginnings. It’s strange, as around us, death melts the leaves and trees, as all that is green rusts away. I have always been in love with the autumn, with the quiet ending that it brings to life. There is a sense of peace that comes with this finality of summer; nature embraces an acceptance that what was in bloom must wither away. You see, nothing struggles or resists this ending. Do you ever hear the leaves praying for just one more day, do you ever see the branches holding unto their flowers with turmoil, refusing to let go? Everything falls with contentment. 

I marvel at this courteous transition from brightness, heat, buzzing of summer days to the darkness, the sharp air, the swift transformation of forests. Autumn nourishes. My roots have been parched too from the sun and the loud expectations that the summer often brings. I’ve waited for the rain, the darkness, the nurturing energy of fall. 

So I turn to the changing of seasons within me, to be an observant to the endings that happen inside. I believe a readiness is upon me to tend to the ancient wounds that are still intact, hurting, begging for my attention. I don’t wish for healing, I don’t wish to become whole and flawless. I merely wish to give so much love to the broken parts, to the ugly, to the parts that carry shame and fear and unworthiness. I want to offer a love so deep that my bones will father forgiveness within them for ever believing that I am not enough. 

Autumn holds the mystical power to heal, to transition from old life to death, preparing a fertile ground for newness to emerge in time. It compels us to let go, let go into this slow moving death of the parts that no longer define us. 

I allow this aloneness to penetrate into each day, it is the slow gestation needed for the soul to grow and welcome a love deeper than it ever felt. This autumn bears witness to the impermanence of life, to the deep desire for a silent nurturance that can only occur in darkness. 

I welcome this new season and pray that it will assuage this weariness. If I sit quiet for a moment, I can hear the leaves whistling their prayers, perhaps murmuring the secret that we have been yearning to hear for so long. 

_{*Full quote by Rumi: “What hurts you, blesses you. Darkness is your candle.”}