Acquiescing to Autumn

The word that keeps coming to me as I think about the energy of the month is acquiescing. It means to consent, to comply silently. Is it the same as surrender, I wonder...how does it apply to what’s going on with me, with the world?  It’s been something that has come with the season for me, which has taken me by surprise, because I have always loved fall. I was born in the fall and I resonate with the cool change that leads one inwards. I love the small of damp leaves and the blazes of color of the trees. Here in Oregon, autumn is gorgeous and crisp and vibrant, but it also means the return of the rains. I was surprised that when the equinox happened in September, I was not ready for it. I wanted more sun. More warmth. More time to wade in the creeks. More quiet college town with mellow sidewalks and plenty of parking. For the first time since being a kid, I didn’t want summer to end so soon. So being who I am, I had to ask, what is it in me that does not want to rush into the fading of the light and the quiet turning within?
 
Was it the return of the cold and damp and the getting out of work at 5 pm to find it already dark? Is it because the shadow work I started this summer is easier to process in the brightness of sunshine? Now that seems to strike a chord. Bringing those parts of self out from their hiding spots is like finding the little pan squash that fell behind the fruit bowl in the corner of the kitchen. Moving the bowl to find a slimy, moldy fuzz-covered lump of vegetable, and realizing that’s why all the baking soda you put down the garbage disposal did not quite get rid of the odor in the kitchen. It’s like we spend our days grinding through tasks, taking care of business and things on the surface that we process and release, just like the garbage disposal. But the old shadowy parts of something wounded or shameful or that is the limiting belief that is running like a subprogram underneath our daily process is that moldy produce that falls down behind stuff in the corner. It can only be discovered when we rearrange things, when we make some kind of a change.
 
It’s the changes on the outside that help sync the changes that are made internally as we process, do our work and blossom. We need compost in our garden to get big beautiful blossoms in the spring. We need the long dark nights to rest, reset and germinate new life, new ideas, new ways of being in the world.
 
I acquiesce to the cycles of the seasons, to this autumn, to the balance of shadow and light, compost and blossom.  I got some more stuff to compost. I better get on it.