As Autumn deepens we see the leaves drift down one or two here and then a heap there.

Sometimes the ground seems burnished with gold.  This is the season to bear fruit and to let go.  It is hard to feel that in those two opposites, in that very paradox, we are most alive.  Coming into fulfillment in whatever way it may happen in us, we cannot hold on.  We must let our good pass to the greater good.

In the Autumn section of my book, A MYSTIC GARDEN; Working With Soil, Attending To Soul, I wrote:

"The plants in the garden are giving their all. Stems and leaves surrender their energy to fruiting.  The days are shorter, the air cooler.  Autumns is a ripeness, an urgency to complete, to go to fruit and seed, to give to the future.   Our lives, too, must be allowed to mature, to be able to give to others.  We do not bear fruit for ourselves.  We bear fruit for life itself."

Knowing this, might we let go more easily?  Could we do it like the leaves with abandon?  Could we trust in the truth and freedom of knowing that we only have what we give away?