The sign on a neaby building reads, "Don't like change? Think of the colors of autumn." Trees are beings of change, showing
us how to let go of the past and how to embrace the present. They move seemingly gracefully through the transitions, allowing
their leaves to leave (perhaps the derivation of their name) while they hold themselves firmly by deep roots through Winter's
storms and winds. The knowledge of new growth and more hospitable weather lives within them as they endure the brutal weather,
and with the return to warmer days, small buds and blossoms celebrate and announce the coming of new leaves.
Autumn touches us with its glorious colors, the warmth of October light and the few days before frost. We can still enjoy
the nightly concert of cicadas and crickets singing-celebrating the lingering few days of Summer, though the calendar may
declare it is already Fall. The movement of the seasons, the colors of this Autumn, the accompaniment of locust sounds invites
us to reconsider change in our own lives. We have much to learn from the steady,dependable movement of the seasons. Were we
to have roots as deep as the trees, and were we to carry the knowledge within us of Spring returning, change would be less
a challenge and more of an awareness of our participation in the natural processes of life.
Peace to you this day. Peace.
What to do when the world seems to fall apart. Now the crisis along the Gulf Coast urges the question to each of us.
What do we do about the thousands of lives probably lost and certainly uprooted by the storm sweeping up and into the land?
New Orleans is a city of water and life there is now seemingly drowning in its own roots. The beauty of the
culture, the music and Creole history and its people as well as the immigrants who have claimed life in its harbor now appears
tragically torn and shattered. Countless lives are gone.
Still in memory's eye we can so vividly see the sleepy nearby bayous teeming with life -- quietly winding through
the area-- now startlingly awakened to a time of nightmare transition . We hear the Cajun music--not so distant. The
time of transition itself is the nightmare and the challenge. Long as it takes, it certainly will pass, for the strong
and hearty spirit of the area, the culture and the people of this land will return and rebuild from what pieces remain.
The pivotal piece here is not tangible or found in the physical, critical as they may be, but it lives in the
very essence of the lives of those who live through this challenging transition and those who have called the area
theirs; their home; their life.
The essence is the energy those souls and spirits are and come from, and the essence will live on through the transition-- the
essence of who they are will see them through because the music; the celebration of life that New Orleans and the Gulf Coast
and their people are lives on regardless of the powers of the wind, the rain, the flooding, and the destruction.
We see the destruction. We must also see the essence . We must be heartened to knowthat some things (which are not really
things) simply cannot be destroyed. We hear the music still.
What to do? Send money, volunteer, send encouragement and send trust and faith that the City of New Orleans and the Gulf
Coast will not only recover, but will also be reborn because of their very essence and because you recognize and care
about the beauty and the music which has lived and will continue to thrive-- even blossom full flower there again.
Do what you can. Give from your own essence. Peace to you this day. Peace.