"... trees aren't sentimental
they let go
because they must
you can't make ready
for new beginnings
whilst holding onto the past ..."
Who remembered to turn back the clocks this past weekend? We change our clocks in the UK to make the most of daylight hours, a practice we adopted by Act of Parliament in 1916. Who knew? Changing the clocks was always more of a chore years ago, and apparently, advice was printed in national newspapers when the change was first brought in, to ensure analogue clocks were not damaged by people forcing the hands. It is much simpler these days: most of our clocks change automatically, thanks to computer programmes. I only have one clock in my house that needs to be changed manually and it normally takes me a couple of days to do this. I like to have a reminder of what the time would have been. Perhaps I’m unconsciously reluctant to let go? I hadn’t thought about it like that before.
This week’s poem is all about letting go. Nature, as usual, is a brilliant teacher and autumn the perfect exemplar of releasing the past in order to embrace the present. Autumn is all about nature letting go of what no longer serves in order to make room for things that will enhance new growth. And what is good enough for nature, is good enough for me.
I love this time of year. I’ve just been up in Scotland, where the autumn colours are in full swing. Here in Yorkshire, they are catching up. Outside my window right now I can see the leaves of a beech tree turning a glorious red and gold, whereas the apple tree behind it is still bearing fruit and sporting green leaves. It’s a time of transition and everything operates at its own pace.
We can’t always predict the changes we may face in our lives. We all have a preferred pace, a way of absorbing change and challenge. I have friends who, this week, will jet off for a bit of late summer sun whilst others are gleefully digging out their winter woollies. Some will be bracing themselves for the months ahead, whilst others are throwing their arms wide open, ready to welcome the chilly winds, rain and (with a bit of luck!) snow.
There are numerous reasons to embrace autumn. It is the calm before the chaos of the Christmas season, which I always appreciate. It’s an opportunity to forage for mushrooms (if you know what you’re doing!). You can enjoy a free face massage in the wind, watch flames flickering on a real fire, and/or enjoy sunrises and sunsets at a more reasonable hour.
Most importantly for me, it is a time for letting go of stuff that is, frankly, cluttering up my head and/or my house. A time to unsubscribe from newsletters I never read; cull my wardrobe and take the rejects to the charity shop. I hate waste, but the time has come to throw out the jars of foodstuffs that I’ll never use. Just this morning I found some bicarbonate of soda from 2019, oh dear! (Just when did I last bake a cake I wonder?)
All this sounds quite frivolous and feels lighthearted. But not all our autumns are the same. There have been years when I have had to grapple with letting go of much more serious stuff than a pot of barely use bicarbonate of soda. I’ve struggled with anxiety, unrealised ambition and grief in recent years, which inspired the poem I’m sharing this week. Looking back, whilst I can recall just how difficult it was to let go, I understand why I had to. I can appreciate how much better I feel as a result. None of it was wasted. It all added to the rich compost of past experience, from which I draw strength.
Perhaps this may serve as a prompt for you to think about what autumn means for you and what, if anything, you need to let go?
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