Honoring fall

I love fall with its bittersweet splendor. Months of dark rain lurk just around the corner, yet the leaves today are at their most brilliant. Nature prepares herself to let go and rest before beginning next season’s growth.

I wish I could let go and rest my mind as well–and fall may be the perfect time to do that. I’ve hit a couple of days this week when I couldn’t write and no words came out. I knew that I wasn’t feeling writer’s block–it was more like I needed a space in which to be empty.

And let things fall away.

In case you missed these:

Thanks so much for reading these blogs, as you can. It may be hard to keep up (no expectation, either!) but you might want to check out a few you missed, like my reflections on how our empathy can tire us out and what we can do about it.

On a lighter note, some of you joined me in creating a story in six words. Try it! It was fun, easy and surprisingly expressive.

One of my readers recently thanked me for reminding us that this is not the New Normal. There are some things that have been happening recently that, heaven help us, we shouldn’t adapt to.

At the same time, we may need to let go of some of our thoughts about the past to clear space and cultivate our creativity now. Being able to express myself creatively and artfully always brings me back to center.

Last words from Leonard Cohen

Want to hear a terrific interview with someone who knew how to honor the fall of his life? (Not my work, alas). I loved listening to this last interview with Leonard Cohen by New Yorker reporter David Remnick. Cohen was a man who lived every ounce of the last part of his life while understanding that he was dying from cancer. As he spoke:

“Now I haven’t gotten near finishing up. I’ve finished up a few things. I don’t know how many other things I’ll be able to get to, because at this particular stage I experience deep fatigue. . . . There are times when I just have to lie down. I can’t play anymore, and my back goes fast also. Spiritual things, baruch Hashem”—thank God—“have fallen into place, for which I am deeply grateful.”