“To every thing there is a season…”
I am highly tied to the earth. Living purposefully on a lonesome mountain (more like a hill), I almost feel like a participant in the season’s changes.
Within the cycles of nature I also witness the cycles of humanity, even the cycles of our personal lives. Trees change their shrouds just as time traces itself upon our faces and the hairs of our heads. Imagining winter, just like imagining my own demise, gives me a breathless appreciation for the present- for the deepening red of the leaf and for the smell of my child’s curly hair. Viewing the natural world and viewing our own lives with the end in mind awakens a deep reverence for the very act of living itself, and the opportunity to do so.
I have found that when we are not observant of the cycles of nature and the natural cycles of the human life, we become unseated at some deep level. Something feels awry.
Once I saw an old man, in the deep winter of his life. Despite his physical appearance- that of old, dead wood- he was receiving aggressive chemotherapy in desperate attempts to recover just a little bit of spring, a touch of summer, or at least a smidge of late fall. I grieved for him. Something was awry.
We cannot supplant the seasons and love them at the same time. We must learn to love and respect the seasons of our lives and to be one with them- only then can we know of their gifts.
Monica Williams-Murphy, MD
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