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  • Writer's pictureSharon Arthur

The Curative Powers of Nature

On these beautiful autumn days I am lured outside. As the temperatures cool down, and the trees shed their leaves in preparation for the end of the growing season, the earth seems blanketed in a burst of glowing colors: brilliant reds, golds, yellows, oranges, and rust. The leaves flutter to the ground from high above in a windy whirling cascade. I love the fall season, but I am ambivalent about it.


It was on such an October Autumn day that my father passed away. Every year at this time the charms of the season are tainted for me by his death. Both his birthday and the day he died are in October, five days apart. The fall used to be a time of many occasions and celebrations. My mother’s birthday was on the last day of summer. But she too died in the fall.


The memories at this time are overwhelming—memories both happy and sad. I’m sure many of you can relate to this. For me, the crisp, refreshing winds that arrive still carry death, loss, and grieving on them. This season will never again be what it was, but we can learn to appreciate its glory over time.


The fall is an ending, a death, for all growing things in nature. It is a natural thing that has to take place for new life to return in the spring. There is no life without death, just as there is no death without life.


Nature is restorative, and long walks on these shorter autumn days have a way of sparking memories, reveries and dreams. It has taken me many years to turn my mind outward to observe my own life objectively. I have been able to regain an awareness of the season and of the natural life around me.


Even though loss is crushing, I find ambling through a forest path helps me to recover from my loss. As the seasons change, I am refreshed by the detail of the tree bark, the shape and color of every leaf, the fragrance of the chilly autumn air, and the calls of the sparrow and goldfinch. The silence and stillness of the woods is a tonic that is good for the heart and soul.


The seasons continue on forever, even though we do not. I find that thought reassuring.


Thanks for reading,


Sharon

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