“Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.” Lauren Destefano
Although the first week of the last month of the year has started, the world around me still echoes a bit of the autumn; with the splash of colours, cold winds and rains still adorning the landscape. As the trees reach their near bare point and the faded colours slowly come down in numbers, the end of autumn echoes the inner part of letting go.
“You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself. That is something you have.” Jim Rohn
All of us have our own set of circumstances. Amidst them, each one of us have felt the good, the bad, the difficult, the trying and the anxious parts of life. While good memories bring a sense of warmth, contentment and nostalgia; there are those memories which have them but are tinged with regrets, poignancy and a certain amount of remorse. Each one of us have had “those moments”. Sometimes on a later date, they may echo the regret and the sadness, other times they bring to heart the joy and happiness of those days.
As one goes through the remembrances of those negative parts, one must not forget that one was lucky to experience them all. No one is guaranteed happiness. One has to make the best of the worst, better their days and learn from the regrets. Just as autumn shows us the antithesis of spring, one needs the “downs”, not just to learn from them but to appreciate the “ups” as well.
“Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.” Stanley Horowitz
Autumn
The thistledown’s flying, though the winds are all still,
On the green grass now lying, now mounting the hill,
The spring from the fountain now boils like a pot;
Through stones past the counting it bubbles red-hot.
The ground parched and cracked is like overbaked bread,
The greensward all wracked is, bents dried up and dead.
The fallow fields glitter like water indeed,
And gossamers twitter, flung from weed unto weed.
Hill-tops like hot iron glitter bright in the sun,
And the rivers we’re eying burn to gold as they run;
Burning hot is the ground, liquid gold is the air;
Whoever looks round sees Eternity there.
-John Clare
Sugar And Spice... Among Other Things 