I spotted spotted leaves and if it hadn’t been so cold, I’d have mistaken the normal pattern for a disease. Alas, the season is beginning to change. While the sun shines on my skin, the wind carries with it a slight bite - a freshness. It’s bittersweet, as the change in the seasons is always a reminder of time progressing, the ending of things and also new beginnings. Does anyone ever get used to the passage of time? It seems the more I enjoy my time, the more I delight in it, and the more in love I am, the more I notice it pass. Maybe because I’d like to hold onto it, like a beautiful flower giving off it’s bright scent, but as with a flower, time must also change it’s appearance and give way for further expansion. And maybe, when you’re so in love, you pay attention to all the moments, just so one doesn’t get lost, or slip by (as though it could!) and so awareness sees it, and feels it’s passage. And this is both neutral, and as intense as ever. Subsequently, the mind thinks, or the thought arrives “How can I make sure, or really try, to take this all in? Completely, fully?”. And that’s a funny thought. It’s always taken in. It’s always full, even in the feeling of the absence of fullness. It’s so unbelievably full, we keep ourselves from it, as it is, in some ways, almost too much. What an amazing life this is. That I can sit here and consider this, or ride a bike, or get lost in any activity (narrowly, or widely), and everything is full. Completely self-sufficient, all allowing, not needing to be one way or another. All for the enjoyment of itself.
And one could argue that it sounds idealic, completely detached from the everyday, but once it is recognized that the change of the seasons, the moment of joy, laughter, annoyance, or an argument with a loved one is the same dance - the necessary catalyst, the total fullness, the same love and beauty - then there is no other way to live or see. It remains completely full, boundless, ever-giving, love. Wholeness.
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