Fragile
Leaves: Leica Q2
“When autumn darkness falls, what we will remember are the small acts of kindness: a cake, a hug, an invitation to talk, and every single rose. These are all expressions of a nation coming together and caring about its people.”
(Jens Stoltenberg)
I hadn’t planned to photograph the leaves.
(Which might be the problem with plans…)
Nonetheless, I was struck by their beautiful fragility, nestling in a shaded spot on an otherwise brilliantly bright, blue-skied autumn afternoon.
Our walks will be full of autumnal leaves now, either red and gold as they cling longingly to the trees, or later orange and brown, rustling underfoot. We will rake them into massive piles and try to bury the (all too lively) dogs - who will play along for a while…
Autumn is always a favourite time for me; it feels like a period of significant rest and renewal. As the colours shift I begin to feel a sense of completion and have sight of the ‘new year’; intentions form and patiently, considerately, sit dormant though winter before coming to life in spring. And there is potential for good, foundational work through the dark confinement.
This year, it seems that things have become strangely fragile; almost every part of our lives feels critically delicate. As political, social, welfare and environmental issues continue to pull at us, it might feel easy to let go and fall into the darkness. Yet if we work well together, we can find our way through the winter. Despite long shadows, we can find patches of light, in which we can stand together, if only briefly, as we resource ourselves through each others company.
We can expect a wintry landscape of change and confusion, and our our attempts to make sense, to understand and work thoughtfully will face distraction or even deceit. Yet while our plans might shift and change, we will find an integrity in our shared knowing, and authenticity in our collective voice.
As the leaves fall, they will lay the ground for our intentions to regenerate.
And we can enact the small, fragile acts of kindness that change everything.
Notes:
I’m indebted this week to a conversation with Samantha Crossley (@littlemisszep) who offered: “Integrity is the knowing, authenticity the voice.” Such a beautiful phrase which shows us a way through our ‘epistemological crisis’ of knowing who and what to trust in an era of confusion and fake news.
As long evenings approach, you might appreciate ‘The Beautiful Life’ by Simon Parke, who offers us ten ‘new commandments’ for a life well-lived. As he tries to unravel ‘truth,’ he notes that, “ We learn many things in life, certainly, and some of them are remarkably complex and clever, but they are utterly useless until we know what it is to be human.”
Finally, if you haven’t read ‘Silent Spring’ by Rachel Carson, it’s really worth your time. First published in 1962 and now a ‘modern classic,’ the book was one of the first to alert us to the environmental dangers of and destruction of wildlife through toxic pesticides. As our rural ecosystems collapse and species meet extinction in ever increasing numbers, it’s clear that we still have work to do.
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