Friday, September 4

Unable to Let Go No Matter What Color You Turn

Fall is my favorite time of year. Depending on where you find yourself this season, nature may provide undeniable displays of transformation. The vegetation found in the Pacific Northwest, for example, will soon become an attractive kaleidoscope of autumn colors. But beautiful horizons are not solely responsible for my excitement. For me, fall represents a chance to regroup, to transform. It provides an opportunity to shed the actions that no longer serve us. Just as an amber leaf of a deciduous tree finds freedom in the slightest breeze, we too can let go of expiring attachments.

Sadly, however, humans do not detach as effortlessly as plant life does. It certainly is not in my nature to shed things or concepts once useful. I grasp lifeless formulas in hopes of resuscitating the success they once bestowed. Misguided energy gnarls my trunk and my limbs bare only the midribs or skeletons of former leaves. I embody the spooky tree that frightened me as a kid.

As fire season winds down, the number of days on the ground steadily grows as does my disgust with my chosen profession. Though going home signifies unemployment, it offers a reprieve from the monotony. Unemployment presents an opportunity to commit myself to what excites me: writing.

Last winter I started a non-fiction book, took a few college classes, attended a writing conference, completed an internship with a regional magazine, and maintained a blog. When I wasn’t chasing the paycheck the year prior, I submitted articles and a story destined for a children’s picture book. My heart is here and yet it frightens me to let go of my laurels.

Think of the energy we expend in trying to retain something that wants to fall away. What if we, instead, directed that energy toward the next phase of life and let the fallen leaves decay and nourish our roots? Wouldn't we then thrive with more strength and beauty than before?


Tom said...

Hey Fawn!
Long time no see or fly. Eric the Nog sent me your blog. Cool stuff, you should be a writer during the non-flying season. Are you still bombing fires?

Tom Gwilym

Norma said...

You have a beautiful way of describing life's journey and yearning for a season of change. I feel the same way. I love your last comment about directing our energy towards the next phase of life. I'll keep that in mind. I found this very inspirational. Oh, by-the-way, I'm also a friend of Eric's. He posted this on his facebook page, that's how I found it. Best of luck on writing/publishing your book. I'm sure you'll be successful.

Rich said...

WOW! And you still think you can't write? You can do anything and everything you want...but you have to let go of one monkey bar to reach for another. See it, Believe it, Achieve it!

See you in Cockaigne.

helisphere said...

I'm with you on this one. This is my eighth and final fire season. Eight is enough!

Choc. D said...

Ahhhhh ... you guys are my sunshine, my rain. Your kind words nourish this feeble twig and encourage growth!

And yes, Tom, I am still "bombing" fires -- when they let me that is.

Choc. D said...

There certainly is a limited capacity for patience in this biz, huh helisphere!?

Steve said...

I just connected with you on FB.

I always thought that September was the beginning of the real "New Year." Change of seasons, school starts, football begins, paid our taxes for those that filed an extension. ;-p So, I always ask my clients, what can they start now in this "New Year."

Looking forward to reading your thoughts.


John Byfield-The Eco-Discovery Tour said...

We are in Vermont, where we are both watching the leaves change and shedding our preconceived notions of what life should be. I hope your season of discontent in JD is soon over. Thanks for sharing!