In Which Amy Rolls with the Wheel of the Year... (Myspace Blog)

It is officially autumn in my book. I am standing in the doorway of my house looking into my yard. There is a slight cool breeze, far better than the very cold breeze that has accompanied all the rain we have had for the past few evenings. (I adore the rain. My favourite days are always rainy ones.) The reason I know it is autumn is apparant when I look at the ground. It would crackle under my feet had it not been so wet. Leaves. Everywhere. Grey, brown, yellow, orange, red, all spread in a thin layer across my yard. There is more to come, because the tree they have come from is still green and vibrantly full of life. I love the autumn. It is the beginning and the end. We pull in the harvest, remember our dead, and prepare to give thanks for the things in our lives that are a blessing. And I have so much to be thankful for. This year has been a year of transition for me, and I appreciate the transition of the autumn more so because of it. Like me, the life of the tree is a state of flux, constantly changing with the seasons. This winter, while the trees lie dormant through the cold; I ,too, will lie dormant in many ways - my focus inward rather than out. I feel as though I have much to learn from this introspective reflection. Much to learn about myself, how I think, where I want to go in life, and what I believe and feel is worthwhile and worthy. This process of reflection does not come easily for me. I must struggle and fight my way through it because I like to believe that I am flawless and perfect, even though I /know/ that I am not. But this inner struggle is a challenge that carries many rewards. Not only do I stand to gain a greater perception of me, but I also stand to gain a greater acceptance of those who are not like me. I welcome this acceptance... there are so many different types of peoples. I want to be critically aware of the impact that I make while walking amongst them. Am I one who makes waves by speeding through without regard to culture? Or do I row in the midst of culture, basking in it and soaking it up like a sponge in order to internalize the fact that I am no different than they in so many ways. We each choose how we move among our family of fellow human beings. We can choose to make waves and expect the world to move the distance to meet us, or we can bask and soak and meet the world in the middle. I choose acceptance, even when it means that I am the one to do the work.