Angry wasps and other dying things

Reflections, prompts, and a reminder to notice the tiny changes because, already, autumn is making her way into the woods, gently touching this leaf and that, whispering "let go."

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Hello friends! We have some new folks, so first— welcome. I’m so glad to see you here.

Second, it was… quite a summer (family and personal health issues plus 2 book launches 2 weeks apart). And I was doing a 3 month Instagram challenge (don’t ask). It all left me feeling a bit scattered and I think that got reflected here.

Apologies to those of you who have missed our prompts and tell me something true posts. Keep reading— gotcha covered!

Let’s dive into the poetry of the natural world and the energy of the season… complete with lessons learned from angry wasps.

I didn’t know about the wasps till we moved to the woods. Until then, autumn was crisp blue skies, mounded pumpkins, type-A geese on an urgent mission, and a certain mystical frisson… a sense of change stroking her chilly finger down my cheek.

I remember walking in the “woods” as a kid. We would skirt the edge of the elementary school’s playground, gathering autumn leaves, sifting through the drifts to find the perfect five fingers of a bright red maple or the golden lobes of an oak. There was something about stepping from the bright, paved sunshine of the playground into the shadow of the trees that fluttered my belly and sharpened my senses. I was in love with that moment of transition, the one step that took me from light to dark. I was in love with the way the world around me took on a different mood as the light shifted, how I felt my own psyche become more nuanced and rich away from the sun’s spotlight.

This sensation of seeing the world—and therefore myself—in a different light became something I craved. I sought those moments when my vision softened the crisp lines of life into something more malleable, when time became kaleidoscopic instead of straight.

The transition to autumn offers a cornucopia of these moments. And, no, you don’t have to go on a retreat or work with a shaman to step into this liminal space. You just have to choose, over and over again, to pay close enough attention to notice the shadows—the small changes life offers that let us see the world anew.