My sweet friend Catherine posed these two questions at the start of the fall season:
What are you shedding?
What are you inviting in?
My morning walk now begins in the dark. I listen to the leaves crunch beneath my feet. Walk into invisible spider webs that were spun overnight between the oak trees and the ivy climbing across the walls. The ravens fly overhead, announcing my presence. Squirrels scurry across the tree branches. Slowly and gradually, the sky begins to lighten. Clouds turn cotton candy pink as the sun peaks over the horizon line. Dawn illuminates the trees. They’re also in transition. Slowly shedding their leaves and exposing bare branches. A metaphor for my own internal journey.
I am shedding and releasing my fierce attachment to timelines and future plans. And instead, relaxing and swimming with the current, instead of against it. Allowing what is meant to unfold, to unfold. Continuing to work hard while simultaneously surrendering to the big mystery.
A cozy little spot along the cliffs of Big Sur.
I am inviting in people and experiences that spark curiosity, openness and wonder. Individuals who teach me aspects of life I never considered because their history, culture, and stories are so different from my own. I’m learning to trust and follow them to the edge. Beyond the familiar. Discovering magic and mystery that I’m seeing for the very first time.