It finally feels like summer has shifted to autumn. As I watch the leaves fall to the forest floor, touching the earth for the first time, I am reminded of how death is what is needed for new life to occur. Beautiful composting leaves will fade in their red brightness to nourishing soil where seeds will one day grow. What a beautiful thing.

Newness being born of the old, so that the two are barely distinguishable, they’re just part of the same universe of living Spirit and its endless cycles. I wonder about how life and death would be understood without the perception of time. Maybe they would be the same thing; rather than as opposite-pole-perpetuators of change, movement and growth, they might be perceived in their purest form: Life. Spirit itself.

Light the Way

The last breath of a dying bird becomes the wind that carries the seed

The final flutter of her wings fans the fire that rages through the decay

The light that fades from her eyes is the Spirit that illuminates a long-forgotten darkness

Death lights the way

Death lights the way

Light the way

Light the way