Deep into November, a few last leaves cling to the trees. I always wonder about these leaves. What makes them hold on when millions of other leaves have fallen to their fate? Sometimes I think they are the stubborn ones, unwilling to accept the inevitable — falling to the ground to be raked up or left to decay. Or perhaps they are just stuck, unable to detach and move on.
I understand this feeling of stuckness. How many times have I been in an unhealthy or unworkable situation but unwilling or unable to let go, resisting change even as I pretend to embrace it? I contemplate this as autumn deepens towards winter. I walk pathways by a grey, churning sea, breathing in the sweet, earthy scent of leaves crushed underfoot, the crisp salt air and withered blackberries. The regulars who bloomed in the summer are huddled into their jackets. They no longer stop to chat. We still smile at each other but we are driven literally inward by the change to cold weather.
Change. I used to think my spirit loved it. Bring it on, I told the universe and so it did. Growing, loving, learning, travelling. But the past five years brought the kind of changes I could not embrace — the deaths of my mother and all of my dear grandparents, of friends, a dog and two cats. The closing of a business. The end of an era.
Through it all, I struggled to hold on, to stop time, but in my resistance I became like one of those last leaves of autumn, hanging on to a season that had passed.
“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy,” wrote Anatole France, “for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.”
Unable to stop change or impose my will upon it, I became angry at it. I went to war against it. Was life always this out of control, I wondered, or did I just not see it before?
Finally, exhausted, I did something I never allowed myself to do.
I stopped.
I took a lesson I’d learned during years of skiing: on the slopes when I found myself going to0 fast and losing control, the best thing to do was stop skiing and repose rather than risk an accident.
At first slowing down felt wrong. I had to fight the urge to just do something. I felt the lives of others moving on while mine seemed to stagnate. But the truth was, only three months had passed. Surely, after all my years of furiously moving forward I could allow myself three months to regroup.
As the days passed I began to feel more alive. Instead of stagnating, I knew I was getting ready for something wonderful. I began to feel ready again for a change. “It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg,” wrote C.S. Lewis. “We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.”
Strangely, during this time, my dreams became infused with images of the Hindu goddess Kali, the devourer. You’ve no doubt seen pictures of this fierce goddess with blue or black skin, many arms, ferocious eyes, and wearing a necklace of severed heads. Often, you see her dancing in burial or cremation grounds, laughing at our mortal attachment to ego and life.
Kali reminds us that in the midst of life there is death. In Kali we see nothing is permanent — time cannot be stopped. I don’t know how or why Kali came to me. I am not a Hindu and have scant knowledge of Indian gods. But there she was, giving me strength to dare, stripping away ego and everything not essential, infusing me with courage to move forward into the unknown, to detach like the last leaf from the tree, to let go.
I did not ask for any of the changes that tore through my life. In this age of The Secret it’s easy to think we manifest every change, but I don’t really believe that. I did not manifest the deaths of my family members. It was just their time, but because our lives were interwoven, when their threads were pulled from the fabric — my life also unraveled and had to be rewoven. And while my life won’t be the same, it has been rewoven —because that’s what life does.
I understand this today in a way I could not have understood it five years ago, before the ground shook beneath me, before the thread was pulled.
“We must always change, renew, rejuvenate ourselves; otherwise we harden,” wrote Goethe.
So it is with the leaves that still cling to the branches. I wander the garden and touch them. They have not stayed green and soft. They have hardened. Decay nips at their edges. They have outlasted their season —and I am glad I am no longer among them.
Photo Credit
“One more” Lukinosity @ Flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.
Matthew says
This Kali she went in my Dream..she was in my Dream and i do not know her or what she is but she is in my dream and in that Dream when i see her in a transparent water tank she kill a human and now the transparent water tank is now filled with a lot of blood, and I felt Fear!!!! not just fear but thee fear of Death!! that transparent water tank is our only way out of that place and 1 of us speak that she is an Indian Goddess and the both of us finding a way out and when we are in the 1st floor but still in the lab she kills everyone she passes by and she pass us if she just move her head to the right side she can see us standing but she is just going in that direction. I can see her having 4 hands in her right arm with a sword and the left hand i do not know and both of us run as quick a possible in a stairs but i realize that I have a friend or i do not know who he is but I know he is waiting for me and i have to go back and save him Because this Kali is going in his direction and they will meet and i felt something wrong in my chest i cant breathe. 3 big pump in my chest slow and hard I can not Breathe and i woke up Very very sweaty and i do not want to wake up I want to help that friend in my dream I do not know him but he needs my help..and i realize it is I who really needs help that I need to woke up and face my life. In those past few years I wasted my life doing what can only satisfy me, and I did not think of my future wanted to End My Life. Now I know what to do I need to think for my future and love my life make it more precious, make it more memorable,respectable and make a difference to my life and to this world.. Do Not Become a Burden to your Family But be Responsible And Make yourself Useful.
Janice Butcher says
Hello and Thank You, My fabric has been unwoven and has had to reinvent its pattern in the last few years as well. I so relate and appreciate your words,
Janice
Kara says
What a lovely post. I thank you for giving me the added encouragement to stop. I feel like sleeping and restoring myself every night, instead of participating in the craziness of the holiday season. I know I will feel active again at the right time, but right now I want to slow down, and I know there is a reason I need to do so.
Also, I’m intrigued, because your post is my second sign of Kali today, and it is only 10 am! I’m a little afraid of what she might mean to me today, but I’m trying to stay open to changes, even if they are not entirely pleasant, like you have had the courage to do.
Kerry Slavens says
Thank you, Kara. It is always a bit disconcerting when Kali shows up repeatedly. I can only speak from my own experience, but I have learned to listen to her gentler nudges…because when I ignore her, she tends to give me a good, swift boot!
Mary says
Lovely piece.
Kerry Slavens says
Thank you, Mary.
Rick Bateman says
This is a great piece Kerry. It illustrates so well the natural process of healthy change. It resonates deeply with me and will I know with many others.
I will never look at those last leaves again the same way and that, I think, is something we both know is the accomplishment of a real artist.
Kerry Slavens says
Thank you for your kind words, Rick. I have become more and more mindful how how we, as humans, attach. As always, nature holds up a mirror.
Margaret Blackwood says
Kerry,
This is beautiful and insightful, just like the woman who wrote it.
Maggie
Kerry Slavens says
Thanks Margaret…and thank goodness for patient, loving friends who are patient as we dangle in the wind, not sure whether to hold on or let go.
sharon mayberry says
essay grew stronger (tellingly) as it progressed. wish i could arrive (evolve?) as you did.
darlene says
Such wonderful words … reading this was like a fresh breath that sort of stung tears to my eyes, in that good way. i can so relate to your words and i know that i have been going through a similar process and can also see and moving towards a less complicated life has been a big part of my transition.
Kerry Slavens says
Thanks for your kind words Dar and Sharon and many blessings for good oars on the river of change.
roy leaman says
Kerry, I am always moved by your writing. Your openness and honesty in revealing your life difficulties is therapeutic not only for yourself but for others who read you. I am proud to know you both as a human and spiritually. Hang in there girl…you are the best.
Lorne Daniel says
This is a wise and well crafted piece of writing Kerry. I so identify with the need to stop, to do nothing, to abandon ambitions – and experience what’s real.
Kerry Slavens says
Thanks Lorne. Part of this process has resulted in a very conscious move away from consumerism, which your own writing has really informed for me. More and more people just seem to be tired of living such complicated lives.