October - Release
Release.
All through October I watched leaves release their hold from branches and float to ground. Some let go freely. There was no apparent breeze. It’s as if they looked around, noticed they looked a bit withered, and … let go. Free to be carried on the breeze, tossed along on the ground ’til they nestled in the corner of our back yard. Mesquite, lemon, lime, faded bougainvillea petals all jumbled together in the compost of fall. It seemed so easy for them.
My experience can, on occasion, be quite the opposite.
I do not let go easily - of Things.
We have a linen closet filled with unused housewares, crystal bowls, Currier and Ives glasses, from several generations ago. I’ll find someone who needs them. Then I engage in what Pema Chödrön calls “attic generosity.” Maybe I can sell them? But what if I need them? Better keep them.
I do not let go easily - of Relationships.
One friendship lingered because it was a habit. We met on the last Thursday of each month. It became an unnecessary marker for a new month.
Another was uncomfortable- even toxic, but the only way I knew to leave it was to leave angry. It was exhausting.
Folks hinted at easier ways. But I had no recognition of “It’s time” as I had learned with ‘time to return a library book’ or ‘time to get out the holiday decorations.’
Another friendship was still kind of comfortable but no longer really interesting. I saw this person on the day he volunteered at a local co-op in my neighborhood. The gift from my friend was when he signed up for a course on our friend day. We never switched to new day. An “assisted release.”
The Assisted Release (demonstrated by Mother Nature).
Summer monsoon storms here in Tucson are heralded with rumbles of thunder and darkening skies - really dark. Here it comes. Pattering rain. Then breezes build up to wind sweeping down the 18th fairway. Leaves release almost instantly and limes are forced to let go - to become offerings from our Free Fresh Fruit box for neighbors.
The Big Wind weekend in mid-October surpassed monsoons as a release assist. The Wind was listed on my weather app with Wind Warnings and Wind Advisories- wind 34 mph. Gusts up to 70 mph. Rattlings outdoors, strange clunks up on the roof, and rising crescendo and fading volume of the gusts had me counting seconds to test the quoted fact that gusts only last 20 seconds.
Trees swayed, cushions pulled at the ties that held them to the chairs, and young limes and lemons were ripped from branches at an alarming rate. Our previously abundantly yellow elder was devoid of blossoms on the east side of the 6’ tall shrub. They certainly had an assist to release.
Mother Nature’s predictable and unpredictable behavior is relayed to us via pleasant TV weather forecasters showing her path with blue arrows and raindrop images and yellow zig zags. The weather people are not angry. They share this news in a matter-of-fact way. Sometimes humorous, as in today’s mention of the Pineapple Express, a fast-moving, moisture-laden weather system from the Hawaiian Islands characterized by some serious flooding for us.
A Shift in Perspective.
I needed a calmer mindset. For many years, my life required no extreme effort. My body obeyed when I needed flexibility and strength. Thank you, genes and gyms. Gentle aging made me aware of a need for more effort, more use of energy. Denying aging symptoms, feeling resentful at the loss of youthful energy, denying pain at the deaths of a growing number of friends brought prolonged stages of grief. My acceptance came at the cost of extreme fatigue living the same over-achiever life and expecting different results. I discovered the discomfort (suffering) of mental and emotional fatigue is not worth it; not aligned with the serenity I want in life.
Becoming Willing.
Resisting change is exhausting. I am now willing to look at changes in the weather, relationships, and aging as an objective observer. Time is more valuable for me to be with the changes in each day. To live more naturally. To step back from hoping to control something or someone just because I want it.
When it gets dark earlier on these late fall days, I close the shades and turn on a light reminding myself that this change of day to night is a universal law. It will happen again tomorrow. It may be soft, it may come as a noisy announcement. But I like lying in bed early in the morning when it’s just getting light. I give myself the treat of going to bed earlier knowing I’ll wake up earlier to enjoy that pale yellow dawn, or a noisy swirl of wind, and often a brilliant yellowy pink sunrise.
As I follow the pace of these autumn days towards winter I am forging my own peaceful transitions in letting go day by day.
Ethel Lee-Miller, Tacheria Graduate, 2025
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