Autumn Fell... A Brief Resurrection Before the Leaves Fall

Summer seemed to end almost overnight. One day there was warmth and color, and then suddenly the mornings were colder. The grasses had gone brown. The flowers were fading. Everything around us seemed to be preparing for that familiar surrender into autumn.

It felt like the season had made its decision.

And then the rains came.

Not the gentle little rain you barely notice, but enough rain to wake things up. Somehow, before autumn could completely take hold, life returned.

The flowers lifted again. Color came back. Almost overnight, they were absolutely alive with butterflies, bees, and pollinators.

Wings opened and closed. Bees disappeared into blossoms. Flowers bent under their tiny visitors. It was as though Nature had whispered...

Not yet.

One more bloom. One more gathering.

One brief resurrection before the leaves fall.

I stood there watching. Not thinking about what I needed to do next, not checking my phone, not trying to understand the meaning of life.

Just watching a butterfly.

Somewhere in that very ordinary moment came this little feeling:

Man... I’m glad I got to see this.

Gratitude doesn’t always need to be something we practice. Sometimes it’s simply something we notice.

When we were kids, we were pretty good at that.

A cool rock could be treasure. A puddle was an invitation. A butterfly could stop the entire day. Nobody had to tell us to be grateful for it. We simply experienced it completely.

Somewhere along the way, though, we got busy. We learned to walk past things. Flowers became landscaping. Rain became inconvenient. Bugs became annoying, and puddles meant wet shoes.

We got very good at being adults.

A little too good.

Somewhere in all that growing up, we also learned to be pretty hard on ourselves.

We notice what we haven’t accomplished, the thing we said wrong, the weight we gained, the opportunity we missed, the relationship we could have handled better.

We remember the person we thought we would be by now.

Funny, isn’t it?

We can look at a flower with a broken petal and still think it’s beautiful. We can watch a butterfly with a torn wing and hope it makes it. We can see an old tree twisted by wind and weather and admire the way it grew.

But when we look at ourselves, suddenly we’re not quite so generous.

We can be.

Not because we’ve done everything right or because there aren’t things we need to change, but because this person standing here has made it this far.

You’ve survived some things. You’ve learned some things. You’ve screwed some things up. You’ve Loved people well and probably Loved a few people badly.

You’ve gotten lost, and you’ve found your way. And you’re still here.

That’s worth noticing too.

You deserve some of the same tenderness you so freely give to the wounded butterfly.

Something interesting happens when we begin doing that. When I become a little gentler with myself, I find it easier to be gentle with you, because you’re carrying things I can’t see either.

The person who irritated you this morning may be frightened. The cashier who barely acknowledged you may be exhausted. The person screaming about politics may really be scared about what the future looks like. The person sitting quietly beside you could be carrying a grief they haven’t told anyone about.

We don’t know. We don’t always need to.

Sometimes it’s enough to remember that almost everyone we meet is trying to make their way through a life they don’t completely understand.

Just like us.

And that brings me back to those butterflies.

Standing there among the flowers, watching this tiny world going about its business, I found myself thinking about the much bigger one.

Our world.

This beautiful, infuriating, magnificent, heartbreaking world.

There is suffering here. There is war. There are frightened children and lonely people. There are people wondering how they’re going to pay the rent or feed their family. Somewhere, someone is sitting beside a hospital bed hoping for one more day.

Sometimes the size of all of it makes us feel helpless. What can one person possibly do with all of that?

We don’t always have to know.

For a moment, we can simply hold one another in our hearts.

Whatever prayer means to you, it can be that simple:

May you be safe. 

May you know that you are loved. 

May someone be kind to you today.

May there be food on your table. 

May your child come home. 

May your heart find a little peace.

And for ourselves...

May I remember that I deserve those things too.

No doctrine required. No perfect words. Just one human being quietly wishing another human being well.

I think the world could use a little more of that.

So today, I don’t want to teach you anything about gratitude. I don’t want to give you five steps to loving yourself, and I certainly don’t pretend to know how to fix the world.

I just want to invite you to remember something you already knew.

There are still butterflies and puddles. There are still clouds that look like dragons. There is still warm bread, cold water, cats chasing lizards, somebody laughing from another room, and that first deep breath when you finally sit down at the end of a long day.

There are still people helping strangers. There are still hands reaching for other hands.

There are still flowers that somehow find the strength for one more bloom.

None of these things erase what hurts, and none of them promise that autumn isn’t coming. The leaves will still fall. The flowers will eventually fade. The butterflies will move on.

That isn’t pessimism.

That’s part of what makes this moment precious.

Because, hurt isn’t the only thing that’s here.

Beauty is here too. Love is here. Kindness is here. Hope is here.

And you are here.

Gratitude isn’t about holding onto any of it. It’s realizing, while it’s happening...

I get to be here for this.

So sometime today, find one small thing. Don’t analyze it. Don’t turn it into a spiritual practice. Don’t even call it gratitude if you don’t want to.

Just stop.

Look.

Let yourself experience it the way that little kid inside you once did, before everything needed an explanation. And feel in your heart;

I’m glad I got to see this.

Then, while you’re there, offer some of that same kindness to yourself. You’ve had your dry seasons too. You’ve had things fall away. You’ve waited for rain.

And somehow, you’re still reaching toward the light.

If you have a little of that kindness left over, send some out into the world.

It could use it.

And so could we.

Because autumn will come. The leaves will fall.

But today...

the Butterflies and the Bees are still here.

Blessings, Love & Light...