Fall Transitions and Transformation: Tuesday's Reflection

In what ways have you made the transition into fall? What are you doing that is different from even a month ago? What are signs of this shift?

I now shut the front door when I come in from outside, instead of keeping it open to the glass storm door. 

I fix a cup of hot chocolate when I return from my morning walk, especially if I have neglected to grab a pair of lightweight gloves as I leave the house. The steam from the hot chocolate mimics the steam on my glasses when I step back into the house.

I wrap myself in a shawl during morning devotion time and sometimes even later when I work at my desk. 

I turn on the kitchen lights when I fix dinner, for the darkness appears earlier and earlier. And dinner these days is often soup or squash or other hearty food. 

I clean my closet, folding and storing summer clothes, replacing them with sweaters and corduroy shirts and pants. I switch spring jackets and raincoat for winter vests and heavy coats. 

I don't miss a chance to comment on the glories of these days, the gifts of a long fall. Often the response from stranger or friend will be about the dreaded winter. I nod and smile, as if in agreement, but I am a winter-lover, as much as a fall enthusiast. 

And yet, just the other day I sat outside on the front step and ate my turkey sandwich and read in the noontime sunshine. The shift is not yet complete.

That's the thing about fall. 

          Autumn holds fragments of other seasons in transform-
          ative arms. Even while forecasting an end to lush green
          summer, we are still gifted with some warm, green
          moments. The quiet turning of the leaves from summer
          green to radiant arrays of color offers us a splendor as 
          lovely as the blossoms of spring. Sitting in autumn's
          quiet sunlight can be a sonnet without words. Ever so
          slowly, this season turns its face toward winter. It is a
          bridge between the warmth and the cold. Beginning
          with summer's dew still in its hair, it can quickly
           become a friend of winter's frost. 
                                   The Circle of Life,
                                   The Heart's Journey Through the Seasons
                                   Joyce Rupp and Macrina Wiederkehr

Fall is the perfect time to think about the shifts in our lives. Yes, our external lives, but also our inner lives. Where on the bridge of your life are you standing? "What do we need to gather into our spiritual barns? What in our lives needs to fall away like autumn leaves so another life waiting in the wings can have its turn to live?" (The Circle of Life, p. 168)

The balance between trees still sheltered by leaves in rich colors to bare branches shifts daily, even hourly. The sidewalk becomes a broadcast of leaf shuffling, and pumpkins seem to appear spontaneously on steps. We can wake to the trees as they surrender their hold on the leaves and to the leaves as they let go. 

Come, let us discover what needs to shift in our own lives and awaken to the next stage of our lives.

An Invitation
How is fall your teacher? What message does fall have for your inner life? I would love to know.  

Note: Thanks to Daniel Mauer for including one of my recent posts on "transformation" on his dynamic site Transformation Is Real. Daniel is a writer and speaker and recovery advocate and is passionate about sharing stories about the role of transformation in people's lives. You can read my post and visit his site here.

Fall Choices: Thursday's Reflections

The catalogs are arriving, and the emails are appearing. So many choices and directions. How can I possibly do everything I want to do? 

This happens every fall when I feel that back to school itch. All the school supplies are piled neatly at Target, and it is hard to resist not buying new notebooks and folders, although, trust me, I have my own embarrassingly rich stash. I am not interested in shopping these days and don't find myself tempted by much, except journals and notepads and pens, but I am doing my best, instead, to shop my drawers, full of those supplies.  

This Fall itch, however, is not just about opening up a new notebook. In the fall I seem to take on the behavior of squirrels, gathering winter fuel, making sure I have enough to sustain my needs. In this case, however, it is not physical needs, but instead mental and spiritual needs. In the fall I take on the behavior of the birds, preparing to migrate, but in my case it is migrating into places of learning and stimulation. In the fall I attempt to take on the behavior of the leaves, turning rich colors of red and gold in shades of new knowledge and wider experiences. 

Of course, the problem, the ongoing issue, is deciding which choices to select. I hungrily devour the catalog that comes from The Loft Literary Center, knowing that if I were to take each of the writing classes that appeals to me, I would have no time to write. I pour over the material from Wisdom Ways Center for Spirituality which is where I have in the past attended the Monday evening Hedgerow Initiative, an ongoing conversation about sacred wisdom, divine mysteries, and human questions. An email comes from the Minneapolis Institute of Arts with dates for the year's lecture series, and I would love to attend the lecture on Van Gogh and also, one on photography and Native American identity. 

Plus, living within walking distance of three colleges and universities, I know most days I could take advantage of a lecture or concert or visit to an art gallery. And how about book talks at bookstores and theatre and concert series and even classes through community recreation centers? I haven't even mentioned opportunities to volunteer and serve, and I know I want to manage my time in order to make contributions where I can. 

EEEK!

So much appeals and like the squirrel frenetically hiding nuts in the backyard, I don't want to miss anything. I need to remember my own limits, however, and be aware of when my eyes are bigger than my stomach. Which donut should I choose at the bakery? Which delectable on the menu of a special restaurant? Or which book from my existing towers should I read next? A wealth of temptations. 

Just recently, however, I decided at the last minute to not attend a Saturday morning class at The Loft. The week coming up was full of activities, and the weeks before had been highly scheduled, and I knew I needed space more than I needed the information, however worthy and helpful it was likely to be. I don't regret that decision, for immediately I felt some equilibrium return. 

This summer I have spent a major part of my time working on a book I am writing. I have taken a twelve week online class that has  stretched me, deepened my commitment, and exhausted me. I know I am a better writer because of this class, and I know my book benefits from all the time and effort. I could take the next part in this class, and eventually, I will, but not this fall. 

I made that decision after moving into stillness and becoming a listening presence to myself. I asked myself questions about what will be most life-enhancing in the coming months. In what ways do I hope to live, give, and grow? What are my goals as a writer and as a spiritual director? How do I balance family and friend time with work time? What volunteer opportunities resonate with me and where can I be effective? What about leaving space for spontaneity and for rest, restoration, and recreation? 

In some ways these questions are the same ones, with some modification, I have lived with most of my adult life. You have probably wrestled with them, too. In our earlier years these were practical, get out the calendar and figure it out questions. Negotiate with your partner, your boss, your kids.  Now because I know I have fewer falls ahead of me than the ones I have lived, I view these questions as questions for discernment. At this stage of my life I am more able to push the pause button and sit with these questions, allowing the inner voice of Spirit to start a dialogue with the person who still wants to be productive and to achieve and to accomplish. 

I now have a general plan for the fall, but one that is subject to change and modification and for the ways life just seems to happen. Yes, I will write. I will take a couple short term writing classes. I will volunteer at Peter's school and at church, beginning with the retreat I will help lead the end of September. I will meet with spiritual directees and open to ways I can teach. But I am leaving plenty of space for family time, for friend time, for me time. 

I will pay attention to the squirrels and the birds and the changing colors of the leaves, and I will pause in the midst of potential busyness and ask my inner voice of Spirit what she thinks. 

An Invitation
What questions of discernment are in your life now? I would love to know. 

Resources
The Loft Literary Center https://www.loft.org
Wisdom Ways Center for Spirituality http://www.wisdomwayscenter.org

Tuesday's Reflection: Fall Days

Minnesotans are known for saying, "Enjoy these days while you can because winter is just around the corner." You hear that statement or similar ones not only in the fall months, but on a gorgeous summer day, someone is bound to bring up winter. "Just you wait," someone will warn. Then in the middle of winter, if we get a warmer than usual day or two, someone will always point out how we will be punished for the  blip in the temperatures. I don't know if that is a Midwestern thing or a Scandinavian thing, since so many of us have that background, but we always seem to have one eye on the creeping, approach of winter. October may be the month of ghosts and goblins, but watch out--for winter comes disguised as fall. So get out there and enjoy it--that's an order!!!

That's just what I have been doing. This weekend we spent an afternoon at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum, along with everyone else it seemed, but the hordes of people did not detract from the glory of the day. The display of pumpkins and gourds satisfied the love affair I have with those fall fruits, although the scarecrows scattered in the gardens did not do their job--being more of a welcoming presence than a deterrent to garden thieves. The annual flower beds had been cleared, but we barely noticed the bareness as we were showered by a pirate's treasure chest of gold coins--leaf after leaf floating around us, fluttering in the breeze. The herb garden after the first frost had lost much of its vitality, but you could see what it had been, remnants of its youth. Even at the end of their useful days, there was beauty in the fading colors and withered shapes. I find hope in that. 

Sunday afternoon I wrapped myself in a shawl and headed to our side garden for some reading time in the sun. Just like all the doomsayers in our midst, I told myself I better do this one more time before winter forbids such luxury. As I shook the leaves off the cushion, I realized I had not enjoyed this outdoor space enough. How many excuses there were--it's too hot or too buggy or I think I will take a walk instead, or I will have more time for that tomorrow. Fall can become a season of regrets. I think about what I could have done, should have done and wonder how I am possibly going to do everything I want to do in the time remaining.    I sit with that question often these days, the fall of my life. 

Yesterday I drove to a town in Wisconsin about 90 minutes away from here to meet two long time friends. Only a week ago I had driven that same route, a familiar, often-traveled highway, but how different it seemed yesterday--so much change in one week. Where were those reds last week? The day was grey and overcast, and I occasionally needed to turn on the windshield wipers, but I was grateful for the misty moistness which allowed me to adjust to the intensity of the color. 

I eased into the red. Many years ago I had a stunning red hat and when I wore it, I would always get compliments from total strangers. I was noticed in a way I was not used to and not completely comfortable with. I decided to prepare myself for the attention by wearing the hat at home for awhile before leaving the house. The wispy veil over the reds yesterday seemed to be a practice session, too--just wait till you see us in all our splendor. 

The eagle I saw standing guard in an almost empty tree punctuated the day. Now is the time. Don't miss this. Don't wait. If not now, when? 

The squirrel who chattered at me while I sat in the garden the other day knows the importance of the present. He had nuts to gather. "Time is a wasting," he seemed to say, scolding me for being in his way. He proved his point, I discovered the next morning when I opened the front door and saw the damage he had done--I know it was him--on one of our pumpkins. Oh well.


Today is that day, I announce to the eagle and the squirrel and the leaves coating the front yard. Sun is promised, and we are going on a fall color tour with friends along the St Croix River. Such a senior citizen thing to do!!! Aren't we lucky, and besides, winter is just around the corner! 

An Invitation
How are you living in these fall days? What are you uncovering as the leaves fall? What does fall moving into winter mean to you? I would love to know.

Tuesday's Reflection: Transitioning into Fall

I threw on a jean jacket as I headed out the door for my morning walk, but soon I removed it. Underneath the early morning coolness, I could feel warmer temperatures announcing themselves. Once home, however, the skies darkened, and the air coming in through the windows seemed cooler. I wondered what the day would become. Would we reach the predicted 77 degrees, and if so, is that the 77 of summer months or the 77 of fall months?There is a difference, you know. 

This wondering led to wondering what to wear. I stood in my closet, which is way too full, embarrassingly full. I know I should never, ever say, "I don't have anything to wear." I don't say that, at least not very often, but in these early days of fall, I have a hard time deciding what to wear. Is it time to put away clothes that are clearly summer attire and get out clothes that fit this new season better? Do I just dress in layers, knowing that at some point in the day I can shed a sweater and roll up long sleeves? Do I wear a summer blouse with jeans instead of capris or ankle pants? Will this be the year I break my mother's code of no white after Labor Day and wear the white jeans that have been my go-to pants so much of the summer?

As my sister says, this is a First World Problem, meaning deciding what to wear now that we have turned the calendar page is a trivial and minuscule issue, and I agree, totally and completely. However, what I know about myself is that these kinds of everyday and ordinary questions lead me to exploring bigger questions. 

These are days of transition. We aren't quite summer, but we aren't quite fall. True, the trees seem a deeper, denser green than they did  a couple months ago, but I see no sign of reds or oranges or golds yet. Lawns and gardens have that almost overgrown look to them, almost tired, saying "We have done our job, folks. It is time to put us to bed." There is still enjoyment to be gleaned from them, however, and frost is not yet predicted. True, we have not been using the air conditioner in our bedroom the last few nights, but it is certainly possible we will need it for a night or two this month, making it too early to remove it. True, the market is full of apples and squash already and making soup sounds delectable, but the ice cream truck still makes a sweep of our neighborhood every evening. 

Soon we will know we are in the midst of fall, and this past summer will be a memory. We will talk more about the coming of winter than we do the passing of summer. We will have made this seasonal transition successfully, and that is all in the natural order of things, but let's not move from point A to B without learning something about who we are when we know we are in transition. Transition is an ongoing fact of life. We are always in transition of some kind, so let's get friendly with it. 

As I stood in my closet this morning, surrounded by possibilities, I realized I am more indecisive when I am in transition. The choices, which are often opposite of each other, all seem plausible and positive. White jeans? Maybe. Sweater? I guess.  I have trouble committing. None of the choices seem quite right. What seemed like a good choice yesterday doesn't today. Before going to church on Sunday I discarded more than one total outfit, as if anyone would care. I was looking for my own comfort, however. I wanted to know what made sense for me in that moment and what would lead me into the next season. Lead me, not plop me there before the time was right. 

I am indecisive when I move from past to a new present. I normally make decisions easily and quickly, and I had not realized that is not the case when I am in a transition. 

Before fall was signaling its entrance and when summer was in control, I had a clearer vision of what I would be and do once the leaves were falling, but now in these in-between moments those plans and thoughts seem hazy to me. I want to hold onto the lazier aspects of the almost gone season and be able to say for just a bit longer, "This fall I will…" and "When summer is over I plan to…" Well, guess what? I no longer look over a hill at fall, I am standing right outside its gate. The other side of the gate with the goals I have set for myself and the classes I have signed up for (What was I thinking?) ready to start, I am having second thoughts.

That's what happens when we are in transition. The past seems more appealing no matter how hard we worked to leave it, and the future looks risky or empty or just like too much work. 

What makes sense in this moment?  

William Bridges in his classic book, Transitions, Making Sense of Life's Changes http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004ZY23TS offered wonderful advice, and I consult his words of wisdom often. Right now in this moment, however, what makes the most sense for me  is to be in the present moment as fully as possible. In the transition I can live in the blend of the summer that is fleeting and the fall that is awakening. I can recognize that my indecision is a way of noting the change. I can pause and catch my breath, trusting that what I have planned as a way of answering "what's next?" will unfold in its own time and way. And I can remember that this is just one transition in my life. I have weathered many in my 66 years and more are yet to come, leading to the most important one of all. 

An Invitation
How do you respond to transitions? What is your default behavior when you are in transition? Is that behavior a sign you are in transition? I would love to know. 

Thursday's Reflection: Fall Energy

Fall Mums in the Neighborhood

A sunny and cool day. Perfect. I have been on a morning walk and have showered and dressed for the day and am now at my desk in the garret. Cool air is drifting through the windows, and I am actually considering putting on a sweater, a novel thought after several days of harsh humidity matched with summer heat. I think I will just enjoy the sensation of being mildly chilled. 

What I am really feeling, more than the change of temperature, is a change in my energy. I am experiencing Fall Energy. Does this happen to you? Do you feel renewed energy as fall approaches? 

Feeling more alive and more responsive to life in the fall is one of the patterns in my life, one I have recognized since I was a child, I think. That increased energy begins building towards the end of summer with the appearance of school supplies and decisions about notebooks and pens for the new school year. 

The other day I helped a neighbor who heads a volunteer project supplying backpacks and schools supplies for children in need. As I filled each new backpack with the donated supplies, I thought about the student who would receive this gift, and I offered a blessing for his or her safety in the coming school year. I also prayed this child would begin the year with eagerness and energy to learn and that this year would be one of positive growth and reinforcement. That's a lot to ask when you think about the struggles so many children face daily, but perhaps the new backpack and notebooks and paper and pencils and pens will be an encouragement for some to do the best they can. May it be so. 

I no longer need new notebooks. Truth be told, I have a large drawer full of journals and pads of paper. I don't need a backpack either, for I have many bags large enough to carry my laptop and books when I decide to leave the garret and write someplace else. I  am not heading back to school as student or teacher, but I do have that same energy of anticipation, of beginning again, of eagerness, of fresh opportunity, another chance. The question is one of direction--how to use that renewed energy.

In many ways I have been on an unchosen sabbatical these last months as I have recovered from a broken ankle. Even though I still walk with uneven steps and somedays I shuffle more than others, I am finally feeling more energized. I am able to do more in a day than I have for a long time and by that I mean I am able to do the basic stuff of life--laundry and grocery shopping, meal preparation and cleaning, as well as enjoy time with family and friends. That doesn't mean I am not tired by the end of the day--I am and I don't have much energy for evening activities. Is that my age? The ongoing recovery process? Or am I not pushing myself enough, not reaching for the reserves which may be there, but hidden? Who knows, but I know fall energy seems to be returning.

Sarah Ban Breathnach in her book Simple Abundance, A Daybook of Comfort and Joy http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/3495853.Sarah_Ban_Breathnach writes about this kind of fall energy.
     
      It seems to me that January resolutions are about will;
      September resolutions are about authentic wants. What 
      do you want more or less of in your life, so that you can
      love the life you are leading? It could be as simple as 
      seeing friends more often, setting aside time to have
      adventures with your children while they still want
      your companionship, rekindling romance in your daily
      round, calling a solitary hour a day your own, or just
      taking more walks in the dazzling sunshine.
          The beauty of autumnal resolutions is that no one
      else knows we're making them. Autumnal resolutions
      don't require horns, confetti, and champagne. September
      resolutions ask only that we be open to positive change. 
      I can try to do that. So can you.  (entry for September 1)

These last few days I have spent more time at my desk writing, working on pieces to submit for publication, and I have signed up for an online class  called "Your Book Starts Here, How to Plan, Write and Develop a Book" though The Loft Literary Center. https://www.loft.org I hope the course will help me move forward on a big writing project. I plan to participate as well in a Monday evening course at Wisdom Ways http://www.wisdomwayscenter.org in which we will discuss the new book by Elizabeth Johnson, Ask the Beasts, Darwin and the God of Love. http://www.fordham.edu/campus_resources/enewsroom/inside_fordham/march_24_2014/in_focus_faculty_and/on_darwin_and_religi_94782.asp I know there will be volunteer opportunities at the grandkids' schools and at the church we plan to join, and there will be childcare and some travel and more friend and family time. All good stuff. 

Not long ago when I sweltered my way through the day, all the choices felt overwhelming to me, but today with the return of fall energy the choices and possibilities feel delicious. I think I will put on a sweater.  

An Invitation
What are the choices and possibilities in front of you this fall? What will you do with your fall energy? If this is not a time of renewed energy for you, how can you best nurture and care for yourself? I would love to know.  

Tuesday's Reflection: Discovering Your Own Magic

When I forwarded the picture of our grandson on his first day of school to a friend, she responded, "How did this happen?" I thought to myself, "It's magic." Well, of course, it isn't. He is growing day by day, and the years pass, and he is five years old, going on six, and he is ready for school. The way of the world.

But I like thinking of the magic involved in his transformation from his glorious entry into the world to confidently walking up the steps and through the doors to his kindergarten classroom. 

Magic and Transformation
Magic, after all,  involves transformation from one thing to another. 

Remember the fairy tales. Straw into gold. Magic beans overnight becoming a beanstalk reaching far into the sky. The wave of a magic wand creating something that wasn't there only a moment ago. Pumpkins into coaches and white mice into horses to take Cinderella to the ball. Hocus pocus and Bippity-boppity boo! 

We are all magic-makers. 

When did you help turn someone's tears into laughter or cans of ingredients into a healthy, warming soup or when did you realize an acquaintance was becoming a friend? When did you find the missing keys or coast into the gas station on empty? When did you find just the right words to soothe someone's aching heart and when did you wake up in the morning with a clear answer to a troubling quandary?  

October as a Time of Magic
October is a wonderful time to think about the presence of magic

in your life. Yes, I know it is a natural cycle for the leaves to change colors and drop off the trees and for birds to begin their migration south and for squirrels to begin hoarding nuts for winter, but it all seems like magic to me. And is there anything more magical than pumpkins becoming Jack O'Lanterns and being lit up on front porches everywhere? How much more magical could it be than to put on a costume or a mask or a witch's hat and for a few short hours be someone else? Someone with magic powers. 

Discover Your Own Magic
Sarah Ban Breathnach in her bestseller of many years ago, Simple Abundance, A Daybook of Comfort and Joy http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/3495853.Sarah_Ban_Breathnach says, "Isn't it magic what you're performing when you create an authentic lifestyle for yourself and for those you love? Aren't you shaping unseen forces with your creativity and soul crafts, bringing into the physical world through passion what has only existed in the spiritual realm? If you can do this unconsciously, how much more could you accomplish if you were fully aware of your powers?"


We deserve to re-discover the magic within ourselves. The magic that lives inside of us is the ability and desire to bring our sacred essence into its fullest expression--to be all we were created to be. 

We become aware of our powers by attending to spiritual practices that help us open our hearts. When we sit in the quiet of sacred space and ask the Divine to whisper reminders of the magic that is possible in our lives and when we open our eyes to the magic all around us, and when we are grateful for the magic of being alive, we embody magic ourselves. 

"Magic is what happens when you have encountered the Divine. It is the life-altering experience of connecting to the divinity that dwells within yourself and in the world." Phyllis Curott 

Your life is your magic. 

An Invitation
When and where have you experienced magic in your life? What spiritual practices enhance your awareness of magic in your life?  How has "magic" helped you connect to the Divine? I love the magic of a conversation and hope you will choose to comment on this post. 

October Reflection: I Never Met a Pumpkin I Didn't Like!

Delicious autumn!
My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird
I would fly about the earth seeking successive autumns.
                        George Elliot

My sentiments exactly. Or almost exactly, for Elliot forgot to mention that the bird would be looking for pumpkin patches!

I love every aspect of fall, but perhaps my favorite part of fall is the pumpkins. 

Pumpkin Diversity
How ironic in the season that we focus on words like "dying" and

"surrender" and "letting go" and "moving into darkness," there are pumpkins. What could be sillier than something big, round and orange? And what about all the varieties of pumpkins: Cinderella, Aladdin, Baby Boo, Jack Be Little, Lumina and Red Warty Thing. And what about the one that looks like peanut shells have been attached with a glue gun? 

Furthermore, pumpkins just aren't orange any more. They are pale green, almost grey, and darker green and peach, and white, and yellow and red. I love them all. 

Light on the Meaning. 
For once I am not going to do a deep reflection here.  I won't meditate on the meaning of my love of pumpkins.  They make me smile. They bring me pleasure, and I like to think that people walking by our home experience a touch of pleasure when they see my collection of pumpkins as well. 

Pumpkins are playful. Yes, I could turn them all into pies or soups and stews. Recipes abound, and maybe I will do one or two, but I am content with the way they seem to smile back at anyone who notices them. "Yup, I know I look kind of silly, but that's my job."

Pumpkin Memories
Of course, as with anything now that I am in my mid 60's, there are memories attached, even to pumpkins. Perhaps my favorite is remembering our son and daughter-in-love's October wedding. The rehearsal dinner was outside under a tent at our farm, and your eye could not rest without seeing a pumpkin --in

the gardens, on the tables, stacked outside the garage and at the entrance to the tent. I loved roaming the countryside, scouting out every Amish farmstand and loading the back of my Jeep with pumpkins. Maybe just one more. And then as if that weren't enough, a friend of the bride's painted a tiny pumpkin for every guest as their place card and favor at the wedding reception! Loved it. 

I also recall that it was my mother who enlightened me about white pumpkins. many years ago.  I didn't know there was such a thing--had never seen one. When Mom and Dad came to visit us in Ohio one fall, we headed into the countryside on a mission to find white pumpkins. Now they are everywhere, but at that time, we were trendsetters! 

I Lied! 
Of course, I can't close without at least a little reflection. Pumpkins remind me to see the beauty, to allow surprise to enter my life, to play, even for a few minutes. 

Pumpkins offer me an opportunity to consider what I have been gathering in these last months and to ask myself what I will make of what I have gathered within. 

Pumpkins, in their bounty and their individuality, remind me to give of myself. Generously. To reveal my own inner riches. 

Invite a pumpkin to come home with you and let it entertain you. 

An Invitation
Many people love fall, but dread winter. What is it about fall you love? Do you have pumpkin stories to share? Or pictures? 
What does fall mean to you emotionally? Spiritually?

Tuesday's Reflection: Endings

I have a hard time with endings. 

With September's arrival comes the ending of summer. True, summer is not my favorite season and true, I love fall much more than summer, but still, the whole idea of ending something in order to move on is not so appealing. 

At least the change from one season to another tends to be gradual--first you notice a tree on the block beginning to change colors, but the leaves have not yet fallen and then you notice the gathering of flocks of geese and cranes practicing their "we're out of here" lift off. For the moment, however, you still hear them in the morning as you take your morning walk. Oh, and on that morning walk, you wear a hoodie or sweater, but as the day progresses towards noon you can shed the extra garment. Until one day there are more leaves on the ground than on the tree, and you hear the absence of cranes calling to one another, and you need that sweater all day. Summer has ended, you say. 

I expect a lot from endings, especially in books and movies. I want that satisfactory sigh of understanding and completion, but I notice frequently in contemporary fiction how often my eyebrow lifts as I read the last page. What? Really? Recently, I saw the new Woody Allen movie, Blue Jasmine, and --spoiler alert--there is no real ending. It just stops, and the surprise and even displeasure in the audience was audible. 

I've long felt that an ending in a novel is unsatisfactory because it has not been edited as much as the beginning or even the middle of the book. The author rereads and reworks the beginning and middle sections far more often than the ending, unless the ending is written first. Repetitive editing. Therefore, the ending can feel scraggly or undercooked. 

In life, however, we only have one shot at the ending. One per customer. There is no way to say, "Let me try that again. I'll do it better this time." 

I Need to Practice Endings
I tend to sag in the middle of things. 

Let's say I'm at a dinner party and for the most part have been enjoying the company and the food, but often I realize how I am ready for it to be over. I want to look back at it, instead of being there in the moment. I think about how I'll write about it or reflect on it--the conversation about caretaking parents or plans for retirement--but at the moment I would rather be home reading a book. 

Then comes the time to say, "Good night. I had such a lovely time, and thanks for inviting us," and I get a second wind. I bring up one more point related to an earlier conversation, as if we were still sitting at the dining room table. 

It is hard to take that final step out the door and hear it close behind me. 

 I reread a last chapter of a book rather than close it. I add a PS onto my letters, and after I have said "All for now," in an email, I continue with another topic. I like to watch all the movie credits and hear the last strain of music. I don't like rushing out of orchestra hall after a concert. I want more days of winter. 

I hold on to the ending and have a hard time moving on to the next beginning.

Of course, with all truths this is not always true. Usually, I am ready for vacation to end and classes to conclude, and I love getting to the end of a first draft for my blog or anything else I am writing. Noticing when ending is not a problem, however, somehow makes my trouble with endings all the more true.

What to do?
This time of our life, now that we are in our 60's or more, are ripe with endings. 

Careers are over. Friends and family members die. There just are not as many open doors as there used to be. This time of life, as we cope with change, loss, and yes, endings, is the time to examine our coping skills. Do we linger when it is over or do we gracefully smile and offer our gratitude? 

I am grateful for Dawna Markova's words in her book I Will Not Die an Unlived Life, Reclaiming Purpose and Passion: 
          
          When I die, I want my heart and soul fully seeded 
      with rich stories and experiences. I want to be moving 
      forward, falling upward, leaving my body well worn. 
      I want to know presence, staying with what is hard until 
      it softens, staying with what is narrow until it expands. 
      I want to know how to float in the silences between breaths 
      and thoughts, I want to know how to lift above and sink 
      below the flow of life, to drift and dream in the currents 
      of what cannot be known. It's not so much about being 
      prepared for death as it is being full of life. I want to be 
      so well practiced in crossing thresholds that dying is 
      merely another step in the dance. I want to be so
      comfortable with stillness and silence that I can root 
      in them.

This is the time to deepen our spiritual practices, so they are not an aside to who we are and what we do, but rather that they become our being and therefore, ease and support our one to a customer ending. 

A Gift
                    This will happen
                     Oh, god we say just give
                     me a few more
                     breaths
                     and don't let it be
                     terrible
                     let it be soft
                     perhaps in someone's 
                     arms, perhaps tasting
                     chocolate
                     perhaps
                     laughing or asking
                     Is it over already?
                     or saying not yet. Not
                     yet the sky
                     has at this moment turned
                     another shade of blue
                     and see there a child
                     still plays
                     in the fresh snow. 
                                  --Susan Griffin

An Invitation
How well do you do with endings? What endings have you experienced in your life and what can you learn from them?
What are you doing now to prepare for your own ending? What spiritual practices are becoming part of your being? I would love to know. Please comment. 

The Symbolism of Tomato Soup, a post by Nancy L. Agneberg

I made tomato soup yesterday. What is blog post worthy about that? Well, first of all my tomato soup is absolutely delicious and a family favorite, but that is not the main reason I am writing about tomato soup today. The main reason is that the making of tomato soup yesterday represents a turning point in the process of selling our home.  Allow me to make the connection.
     It is now September, and I LOVE fall. LOVE FALL! I know the days are shorter, and I get up to go exercise when it is still dark, and I understand that it won't be long before shovels will be on the front porch instead of wicker furniture, but before then it is fall--cooler, crisper temperatures, sweaters, pumpkins, applesauce, fresh notebooks. Well, I could go on.... The point is I don't want to miss fall because I am cleaning the house everyday to the point of obsession, a new addiction, in anticipation of potential showings. We have had lots of showings, and I am more than grateful that there continues to be interest in our home, even two showings the week before Labor Day, which I am told is unusual. However, no offers--yet. 
     Because we have been living lightly in the house, very lightly, I have not done much cooking these summer months. It was time to mess up the kitchen and what better or messier way to do it than by making tomato soup. Making tomato soup takes a large saucepan, a medium saucepan, a colander, a big bowl, a smaller bowl, a Cuisinart or food mill etc. I end up with a red stained apron, and a sink full of tomato peels and seeds, and the best late summer supper ever. Well worth messing up the kitchen. 
     I came to the decision to make a batch of tomato soup not only because the Farmers' Market was laden with gorgeous tomatoes of all varieties, but because I was musing about what the coming fall season might bring. Of course, I would love to have the house sell before the cold weather arrives, and I would love to move into an apartment here in Middleton and our new home in St Paul before we are carrying boxes in below freezing temperatures, but I realize we truly can be content this way for as long as necessary. We have a great house here, and the apartment in St Paul suits our needs perfectly. There is nothing I don't like about living in Middleton/Madison. We have lovely friends and Bruce has a stimulating, challenging job that suits him so well. Life is good and it is time to live it in the present. 
     This new revelation has resulted in a new resolve to settle in a bit more and not be as focused on selling the house. Time is on our side, and the next owner who loves this house as much as we do will appear at the right time. 
     Is there something you have not been doing? Some way you have been putting your life on the side because of something you are waiting to happen? Well, fall is a bonus time of renewed or brand new resolutions. Happy fall and bon appetit!  

Herbed Fresh Tomato Soup
Serves 8

2 Tablespoons butter
2 Tablespoons olive oil
2 medium onions, thinly sliced
2 pounds fresh tomatoes, peeled and quartered (5 cups)
1 6 oz can tomato paste
2 Tablespoons (at least) snipped fresh basil. Actually, I prefer a handful of basil. Or if necessary, 2 teaspoons dried basil
4 teaspoons snipped fresh thyme or 1 teaspoon dried thyme
3 cups chicken broth
1 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper fresh thyme or basil as garnish

In large saucepan, combine butter and the oil; heat till butter melts. Add onion and cook till tender, but not brown. Stir in tomatoes, tomato paste, the snipped basil and thyme. Mash tomatoes slightly. Add chicken broth. Bring to boiling. Reduce heat. Cover and simmer 40 minutes. Press through food mill or puree a small amount at a time in blender or Cuisinart. Strain. Return mixture to sauce pan. Stir in salt and pepper. Heat through. To serve, top with fresh herbs.