Here we are one day removed from Thanksgiving 2020. As November winds down I thought I would share a brief sonnet on what this month of transition means to me. You see, up until 2 years ago this time of year would trigger a sense of melancholy and loss. The abbreviated sunlight, the unmistakable chill, and the trees with their now skeletal stature would all converge and sap the light and warmth out of my soul. My relentless clinging to the softer warmer days of summer and early autumn brilliance would leave me despondent and ill prepared to deal with the inevitable onslaught of the approaching winter.

Recently however, through the  discovery and ever-evolving practice of mindfulness and attempt to reside in the present moment has enabled me to pivot and transform my perspective on what this season could be….a precious gift. I hope all who take a few moments to read these words may find some splinter of hope, inner light, and a sustaining sense of warmth to carry you through….

Ode to November

Darkening Days – the opaque light greets the morning sunrise, followed by a retreating sunset that scurries away with great urgency

The November leaves – that blow about like tumbleweeds – have lost their autumnal brilliance – golden yellows, radiant reds now replaced by neutral brittle browns – reflecting a season now past

Biting air penetrates to unsuspecting skin through the layers of early Fall wardrobe inadequate for the advancing season.

The brittle leaves house the memories and vibrations of warmer days, balmy nights, children’s laughter. Sweet ocean breezes, the fragrant smell of honey suckle long since deep in slumber….

Do not despair – for this season offers us priceless treasures beyond measure if one is able to lift the veil of sorrow that comes with the mourning of seasons lost.

The colder darker days force a retreat inward toward hearth, home, family, and yes into the very depth of our souls.

The season releases us from the frenetic charge and demands of our warm weather pursuits that propelled us like water bugs skimming frenetically over the smooth pond of our summer lives.

Granting us the opportunity to reclaim our true essence, our humanity, our spirit

When one grows weary from winter’s desolation do not lose heart.

Simply run your fingers across a bare branch and feel the unmistakable bumps that contain the buds of future blooms that for now lay sleeping in peaceful slumber that will burst forth when the universe commands that our renewal is complete….