It happens every autumn.
Summer days swiftly turn into cooler nights, harbingers of autumn’s fast approach.
This morning, as I sit at my desk, the river flowing past in glacier green beauty, I see no rafters floating by. Just the branches of the trees bending in the cool morning wind gusting in from the north.
I hear the sound of the leaves whispering stories of the wind to the squirrels running up and down their trunks. They are gathering food for their long winter’s nap.
The sky hangs low, laden with pregnant grey clouds waiting to release their bounty on the earth below.
And I am warm and snug inside, wrapped in the bliss of watching leaves dance on trees and water flowing by.
Savouring these small graces of my morning view is my antidote to world events that stalk the edges of my peace of mind. They remind me that change is happening, even when I feel like the world is stuck in a bad movie.
In, Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer writes, “The Skywoman story, shared by the original peoples throughout the Great Lakes, is a constant star in the constellation of teachings we call the Original Instructions. These are not “instructions” like commandments, though, or rules; rather, they are like a compass: they provide an orientation but not a map. The work of living is creating that map for yourself. How to follow the Original Instructions will be different for each of us and different for every era.”
“The work of living is creating that map for yourself.”
I am wondering on my map. Wondering what words, images, sounds, feels, thoughts I would use to describe the map I am creating with my life.
It is good to wonder. It is good to explore my wonderings. To visualize and actualize my map.
What about you? Do you wonder about the map you are creating with your life?
Dare Boldly 
Geez Louise, just when I am convinced that I have “a map” formulated in mind as to my immediate future, like even a few days ahead, something comes rushing out of left field and there, the map is gone, altered or simply gone awry. We all need something resembling “a map” for it gives us a sense of purpose, goal(s) to strive for. I gave up on that map, instead I now follow my instincts. I allow events to take me down paths I probably would never have considered. What an adventure! Yes, there have been detours, dead ends, but the surprises are what keep me going. There is a hint of autumn in the air, here in the Middle Kingdom, but it is refreshing for my favourite season is nigh. The wind is up, the wind chimes are playing an original tune, as they always do, bringing a sense of joy. That hint of autumn is spurring me on to make quilts of warmth and comfort for others to enjoy. My “map” is ahead of me, not me following it!
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Geez Iwona! How I love your response. ❤
Years ago I wrote a poem about how 'the way is the path' — have to go dig it out!
Hugs my friend.
My fav season too btw. 🙂
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I live day to day not thinking much about the future or where I heading
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It’s a lovely way to live Joanne. ❤
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I just read another blog post about the same book so I am thinking it’s time to order it from the library.
Sometimes the path of life seems to fade away. Like walking in the native grass on a deer path and boom the path disappears. Then you have to pick and choose which way to go. I often feel like I’m along for the ride with so many factors of life and that sometimes one doesn’t seem to chose as much as hang on. This post had given me much to think about.
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I love how you describe the path and how it seems sometimes to fade away. And yes, it is like that sometimes. Yet, the path is always there. It’s just asking us to create it as we go.
Love your response Bernie — and my apologies for my tardiness in replying! ❤
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My map up to this point is in a great place right now, but there were so many detours to get here. Great post.
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Thank you Geri — my apologies for not responding sooner! And yes, my map is lovely too — and the detours, though they felt dark and long, all brought me to this lovely place.
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