You, in this moment, are this leaf: frozen in time, fantastic, fleeting and soon, if not already, falling to the ground.
Before you were this leaf, you were its bud, and before that, a bump, and before that, a promise, a shadow, an energetic space calling in your form to be, to emerge, fill out, flicker and sing, to wither, fall and then drift and dance to the ground, to disintegrate, decompose, and become more earth that feeds the tree that calls more shadows into form, again, again, again.
I mean, look: no matter how organized we are, no matter how much we meditate or how many items we cross off our To Do list, no matter how in touch with our feelings we get or how clear our communication becomes, or how much room we give everyone around us to be themselves and find their own way, we are all falling, all the time falling, always falling to where we will one day disappear into the mystery that made us.
So while we’re here, let’s step away from the grind of self-improvement and instead, fall into the arms of self-acceptance, like the Rumi poem that asks us not to seek love but rather seek to remove the barriers to receiving love.
Let us meet and melt the barriers to accepting ourselves, our whole sticky complicated mess of the selves that we are. (All of us. Yes, even that person.)
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
–Mary Oliver, When I am Among the Trees
So, what small bit of self-improvement can you let go this week? Where can you go easy, and notice the glow that still comes through the cracked or broken or opaque place?