Autumn…makes a double demand. It asks that we prepare for the future—that we be wise in the ways of garnering and keeping. But it also asks we learn to let go… Bonaro W. Overstreet in Meditations for Women.
I love autumn in the Northeast because of 
the intensity of color that the season brings. The sugar maples show-off their bright shifts of orange and red next to the deeper, quieter black-greens of the pines, even while pieces of color, the leaves, are falling. Some fall quickly with wind and rain, others slowly in the stillness of a starry night. And the stripping bare is relentless and unstoppable, until we are left with the simple gesture of branch and limb…
And a depth of vision and clarity that was lacking before.
I spoke recently with someone who may move her family and her business from one side of the country to the other, a big change and a big challenge. She mentioned that if they move, she and her husband will sell their home and most of the furnishings, along with many of her personal items like books and computers, in order to simplify the process.
That is letting go in a big way. But, as the leaves of her life fall away, as she strips her life to the bare essentials she’ll probably gain more clarity and a new vision about her business, her family and her life.
If you’ve lived through a flood like the residents of Boulder, CO recently did, or a fire as a good friend and colleague of mine did, or some other occurrence that stripped you of material things, you know that, at first, you need time to recover from the shock and the loss. Then, slowly, as you move through the loss, you can see more clearly what is important to you, what you truly value and love.
You also discover that you are not your things. You are not even your creative work.
No, this is not blaspheme or balderdash. Let me explain.
Have you, like me, ever wondered, “If a fire/flood/disaster happens, what will I take with me as I flee from the house?”
Bob and I no longer have children or pets at home anymore. So we don’t have to worry about them.
So what else is precious and irreplaceable? Family photo albums and pictures, artwork by my mother who died years ago. Our computers, since we have business records and information on them.
But, I probably wouldn’t scramble to save old manuscripts, completed weaving, etc. because, as awful as it sounds, even if all my writing and weaving was destroyed, as long as I’m still here to tell the tale…well, I’m still here to tell the tale. I am not less of who I am because some of my creative work is gone.
Some of it is out in the world. More importantly, I’d still have the ability to create more, to tell new stories, to weave new images and scarves, and to do all the other myriad things I love to do to express my love and passion for the world and this life.
As this year draws to a close, as leaves fall from the trees, I am working to clean out my studio. I’m letting go of the leaves that may look like me but are not me, and that may keep me and others from seeing who I am and the power of the work I do.
I’m not defined by my books or beads or yarns or tarot decks or looms or anything else in here. I’m defined by the wishes and dreams of my soul and by the stories I have to tell and by the people I love.
When the leaves fall from the tree, leaving it stripped bare, the tree is still a tree. And within that living tree is the potential for new leaves and new growth. As dead as that tree may look in the winter, we know that the promise of new life is there…waiting.
I’m working to see more clearly every day…as the leaves fall.
In order to see more clearly, what are you ready to let go of?