Gathering and Letting Go
Lynne Elwinger, O.C.D.
Here comes autumn again, offering fruits, trailing splendid leaf-color and glory. Then, almost without warning, the mood changes and we see before us a wonderful model of generous detachment, as all the external jewels are released to fall back to the earth. Acorns and many other seeds, leaves, fruits, temperatures and almost everything in nature seems to be falling, as summer’s possibilities gradually fade into a time of harvest giving away. By late November, trees will stand in bare-boned beauty in the less intense sunlight, calling us to simplicity and a return to the essentials. Sap goes back to roots to nourish and protect the more hidden dimension of tree life deep within the earth. A subtle quiet steals across the land as days shorten and nights lengthen.
The feast of St. Teresa of Jesus seems to fit perfectly with the moods of autumn, with its rhythms of giving and receiving, of activity and rest. As with those magical times of sunrise, sunset, twilight, and the meetings of rainstorm and sun that produce rainbows, autumn itself seems to live in the borderland, blending light and darkness, the outgoing and the receptive, the fruiting and the next year’s seeding. We are gracefully carried through the transition from summer’s exuberant growth to winter’s quiet rest in a way that softens sharp edges and abrupt contrasts, as do lights that are slowly dimmed. The way of life St. Teresa encouraged for her Sisters seems to create a system of balances, with silence and speech, solitude and community, contemplative prayer and everyday work. Both autumn and the contemplative approach to relationship with God feature the unceasing rhythmic cycles of grateful receiving and gracious giving, of growth and fruition followed by openhanded letting go of the fruits and of the season now ending.
The rhythm of contemplative life incorporates into each day time for root nurturing, rest, growth, sharing fruits, seed-bearing, and then root nourishment again. Without the bearing of fruit, the purpose of the life for others would be lost. Without the return to the ground of being for sustenance, the capacity to bear fruit would be lost. At our depths, we belong to the Sacred in the same way the tree belongs to the earth. Rooted in the Holy, we receive its nourishment, inspiration and support. We produce buds, flowers and fruit, give it all away, and return to center to be with the One who nurtures us. These same cycles can be fostered in any lifestyle and place and bring much-needed grounding and refreshment to our lives.
Nature reminds us in autumn to take a second look. First capturing our attention with blazing reds, golds and oranges, to be sure that we’re paying attention, she then drops all back to earth, leaving essence of tree structure starkly revealed. The austerity of bare trees, limbs akimbo waving in the wind, carries a charm all its own, and beckons us to try its path. “Let go”, is whispered on every breeze, inviting us to take stock, to simplify, simplify, simplify. I am always as engaged by this as I have been by the earlier glorious color. It fits the cycles of my soul. Needing simplicity as well as complexity in life, I need to rest in the serenity of bare trees, free of the demands that come with fruit-bearing.
In this season, we are invited to take time to nourish our roots, hidden deep within the soil of the divine ground of our being. Healthy living requires both the sharing of fruit and the resting, as we participate in the inbreathing and the exhaling of God’s Spirit within us. The feasts of Saints Teresa and Therese add resonance and depth to autumn’s messages. Give beauty, bear fruit, then go within and be nourished for the next growing and fruiting, and giving away.
Sr. Lynne Thérèse Elwinger of the Resurrection O.C.D.