Late yesterday as the leaves of various shades cluttered the lawn, I was deeply contemplating on whose turn should I make it to clean up the mess, when the first stirrings of “autumn fever” drafted into my mind.
The lawn and the backyard was a mess; but among all the fallen leaves was my thought that at one point of time, each leaf was a small tiny green point on the branch from where it unfurled through the spring and summer. Each leaf had its’ own world to see. Some were of the sunshine rays and early morning dew , of rain and wind, the little crawlies of nature among various views. At the end of their time, they all had their own story to tell.
Sometimes I feel, our days are like the leaves in fall. There will be times when we will have to stand alone. There will be days when we have to make our choices and sacrifices, face reality and find our own path. All this requires us to find the courage and faith from within ourselves, donning the mantle of true faith in quiet confidence with the willingness to take risks and to settle for nothing less than what makes us truly happy. For by this, we can hope to discover the true purpose of our life.
“Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love – that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one’s very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”[Letter to Miss Lewis, Oct. 1, 1841]” ? George Eliot, George Eliot’s Life, as Related in Her Letters and Journals – Volume 1