The Wax of our Thoughts

A short-lived Fall season has brought with it a time of introspection and deep reflection. Winter hit before Fall even had the chance to show its vibrant and colourful face, the needles of the golden larches thrown from their branchy homes by a cold wind and premature snowfall.

Reflection calls us to rest and take toll. But the passing time and the passing seasons are eager to move us onward. I want to understand and constantly want to process before moving on to the next phase. Sometimes these things must happen simultaneously, but we must walk into the future with our eyes facing forward and our hearts facing in all directions.

I’ve always been nostalgic in the Fall. The smell of leaves saying their last goodbyes brings back memories from childhood of heroic leaps into giant piles of leaves that were, in reality, only two and a half feet high. We used to collect leaves along the trail in the forest behind my parents’ house and take them home to dip them in wax. We hoped to keep them alive just a little bit longer, preserving the memory of their colours, holding onto the life within them.

The Child at Heart

Aren’t our memories and experiences the same? In times of reflection, we dip them in the wax of our thoughts and hold them dear, as though our efforts to preserve the good things will actually keep them alive. But, time passes and things change. Leaves rot and decay, returning to the earth with a humble funeral, leaving behind only the promise that colour will return once again in the Spring.

At times, my introspection leads me to places more complex than I have time to deal with. These are leaves I do not wish to preserve, nor do I wish to even pick up to inspect.  With no clear direction amidst conflicting and lonely thoughts, I am tempted to build a giant pile of leaves and jump in it, as if somehow a more childish approach will simplify life. But, my aunt recently introduced me to a poem by Jelaluddin Rumi that seems to express something that I haven’t been able to. One particular passage goes as follows:

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

It’s not always easy, but if I can greet my conflicting thoughts  and confusion at the door laughing, then perhaps they will giggle with me. Or maybe just jumping in leaves really is the solution.

© Meghan J. Ward, 2009.