As a pagan noticing the changing of the seasons is a crucial
act of my spiritual meditation.
Simply noticing of the leaves turning colors or the subtle and sometimes
abrupt change in the weather. The blossoming green all around me. The
light and shadow of my days reflect the passage of time. These things ground me in my steady
belief that our lives continue.
Generations are born, live and die. The cycles return again and again even though the fabric of
my every day life might change drastically from year to year.
As an academic I follow the beginnings and endings through
“school time” September to May and the rest of summer. I anticipate an introduction to new
students each year and a renewed curiosity with those who I have committed to
mentor. Finally, after four years the rite of graduation arrives, a sort of
pushing out of the nest.
As a wife and mother… I am learning to follow a daily rhythm. Our little guy needs it and so do
I. This is not an intuitive place
for me. I have always sort of
allowed the days to unfold without much internal structure—it has worked for
many years. Now however, I am not
simply tending my own fire, my own creativity. Now I am fostering another fire and it is quite challenging.
So often these three “rhythms” run
contrary to one another.
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