Autumn Introspection

I have often heard that our growth follows the seasons, and I’m not alone in thinking there is something special about the fall. As the winds pick up, it’s as if the earth herself takes a deep breath and whispers, “Time to slow down y’all.” And you know what? We should probably listen.

I’m not referring to the moment immediately following a pumpkin spice latte where one finds themselves contemplating one of life’s great mysteries: “Why did I do this to myself again? Why did I just ingest what is essentially an artificially flavored cup of caffeinated liquid marshmallow?”

I’m instead looking to the example set by the forest. As soon as the temperature drops and the air gets crisp, you can’t help but notice the trees are up to something. They start shedding their leaves and eventually stand there naked as if to say, “Okay, your turn.”

Alright then. Here I go—an honest look.

I follow a grand tradition set by Southerners everywhere. I, of course, mean packing my family up and embarking on an annual pilgrimage to Florida. Mine is at the end of the season. When people ask me why we home-school, I tell them, “So I can take advantage of the condo rental rate drop that follows the start of the school year.” It is effectively a proper send-off to summer.

This year, my first moment of clarity occurred in a Chic Fil A parking lot. As I watched my kids file out of the minivan adorned with a roof cargo carrier, I realized, “Yep, I’ve pretty much made it in life. Now to take good care of it.”

The setting of my fearless contemplation is not a riverside cabin nestled in the mountains blanketed with oaks and maples ablaze with amber, gold, and crimson, away from distraction as I rock next to a fire. Instead, I stand ankle-deep in the ocean, looking out at the expanse of water as the sun kisses the horizon goodnight. I find myself trying to comprehend how big it is and, rightly, how small I am.

These meditations are not a lengthy undertaking. They consist of several brief moments broken by adventures to the pool, then back to the beach, then back to the pool, and then, for some reason, the hot tub. To complement the eighty-degree day. This pattern follows an ancient wisdom comprehended only by those under nine. I have not achieved this level of enlightenment as an adult, but I am steadily getting closer.

My autumn contemplation comes in waves, mirroring the ocean I look to as a guide. Insights nestled in between stretches of action. That’s how it’s always been. I don’t know if I would find much having ample time and space to myself. Most things commonly labeled distractions are, in reality, fuel for the moments of clarity. Self-awareness is the result of action. It does not occur in a void.

I do need to be quiet for a little, however. To be clear, put the electronics away and embrace any inner discomfort type of quiet. This is the toll that must be paid on the way to that unseen place from which ideas and truths always bubble up.

My days of zen this year were my version of perfect. I did come to some truths and become aware of goals that had been lurking under the surface. That’s all I’ll share here. The rest will be woven throughout my stories in a language understood by those who are excited by the idea of hot tubs on hot days.