AWARENESS

Paradox, Blue Ridge Parkway

“All through Autumn we hear a double voice: one says everything is ripe; the other says everything is dying. The paradox is exquisite. We feel what the Japanese call ‘aware’ — an almost untranslatable word meaning something like ‘beauty tinged with sadness’” —Gretel Ehrlich, The Solace of Open Spaces

I liked the quote above and saved it for a possible blog post.  And then I happened upon a photo that was just taken on the Blue Ridge Parkway of the first snow of the season.  It visually captures both the beauty and sadness of the colorful, vibrant leaves below and the quickening demise of the trees above that are covered in frozen snow.

Much has been written about all the sensory feelings which we humans associate with the autumn season as summer days seamlessly morph into cooler nights and all nature begins the process of retreating from the hectic days of growth and reaching to the heavens.  And perhaps the most paradoxical example we all observe is the withdrawing of green chlorophyl from the surrounding forests and urban trees.  Once the true colors of their leaves that have adorned them since springtime appear, people gaze in wonder at the splendid colors that begin their swan song reveal.

Autumn beckons a bittersweet melancholy as we breath in the beauty of this colorful display, but for those who have witnessed this rodeo before, we know the sad ending of loss and decay.  Once the harsh north winds begin to sail through the countryside, the leaves are torn lose from their moorings and join in a joyful dance that has a much too short run before they begin their cycle of returning to the stardust of all creation.

We become all too aware of the sweetness of life in autumn and the shortness of time for all living organisms.  But we can take heart in observing that every living organism including ourselves gets a chance at being part of the cycle, understanding that it has both a beginning and ending before it repeats with new players.    

“An intense beauty is trembling on the edge of destruction” as golden Aspen leaves quake in the cold north wind, acquiescing to the inevitable.

THE PINOCCHIO PARADOX; “My nose grows longer now.”