AS I was out cycling along the towpath on Friday from Stranmillis to Lisburn, I could not but notice the autumnal shades appearing all around me, pebbledashed with the stunning light of the sun.
The trees, the hedging, the banks of the Lagan and the river itself heralded the coming of autumn, nature letting us know that summer is ending. This time is also celebrated up the north coast at one of Ireland's oldest festivals, the Lammas Fair, along with one of our newest festivals, the Mela in Belfast.
Arlo, Arlo, Arlo: The author on the towpath with a fellow-lover of the great outdoors.
On my cycle I was blessed by meeting Arlo, a beautiful French bulldog pup who was able to take a rest in the basket of my bike.
Later along the river I stopped to photograph my namesake, the grey heron. I say it’s my namesake since I discovered the call of the Heron is 'frankkkkkkk'. He sat like the words of the Bob Dylan song, “watching the river flow”.
Autumn always teaches me to let go with acceptance in the knowledge that letting go is as natural as a leaf falling from a tree.
The same applies to mindfulness practice. When we practice we are letting go of the past and giving ourselves permission to be in the present. I love the idea of giving ourselves permission to shift from doing to being. This allows me to stop looking in the rear view mirror of my life.
What a joy it is when we realise that this is it, that the past is over and the future has not yet arrived and we wake up to the beauty of being born a human being in this precious life.
The big question for me each morning is, 'What am I going to do with "my wild and precious life"?' to paraphrase the great American poet Mary Oliver in her ode to summer. At the end of this column, there's another classic she penned in homage to autumn.
But before that, try this lovely exercise which was given to me by my Zen teacher Paul Haller, a fellow-Westie.
Stop whatever you're doing right now and bring your attention to this moment. Notice what’s happening now, where’s your attention right now? Are you looking at your rear view mirror or are you anxious about the future? Notice with bare attention what’s happening. Now give yourself permission to shift from human doing to human being. Notice this shift, the change within your consciousness, just by giving yourself permission to be present, allowing yourself to rest in the rhythm of this moment. Now slowly and with kindness bring your attention to your breath and allow yourself to experience its ebb and flow. Explore your breath with curiosity and ask yourself, 'Who is breathing?' Give yourself a five-minute breather, allowing yourself to drop into this moment as you let go of the memories of the past or the imagining of the future.
Song for Autumn
In the deep fall don’t you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,
warm caves, begin to think
of the birds that will come – six, a dozen – to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its
bellows. And at evening especially,
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.
