With Every Tone in Autumn, a Thought of Gratitude.

As a child I had a toy kaleidoscope, and it was my window into mixing color, transforming color and creating shapes. Light entered the far side, and I twisted the tube to watch a segmented, fragmented world blossom and collapse and blossom over and over. The colors and the shapes seemed to dance with each other creating new colors and shapes. At other times, everything seemed to separate, fracture and spin into confusion. Whether I felt the kaleidoscope was breaking things or making things, it was always stunning.  

During the past few weeks, I have observed how the leaves, both fallen and, on the trees, remind me of this object. The beautiful reds, oranges, yellows and browns—a dizzying mix of color. Every day new patterns and cornucopias of color catch and reflect the light. As I reflect on the world right now, I feel like I am in my kaleidoscope. The world is fractured, spinning and constantly putting new things in front of us. The election, pandemic, unemployment, uncertainty, the fear, the longing for connection. We are exhausted and unsure.  

This time of year has a spirit that seems prepared to settle us in for the long darkness. The spirit anticipates the cold months when there are no gardens to tend and when there is less to look at and listen to as the plants of the land hush themselves. We are winding down and preparing for a quieter time. This year, that seems more intense than ever before. Thanksgiving will not look like it normally does and shopping and gathering will be different. 

For me, when hope feels distant and change feels unbearable, I return to gratitude. I think about those people and things that make life meaningful. Some are tangible like my family, my friends and my home. And some exist elsewhere; I don’t always know the farmers or farms that produce my food, but I am grateful for them.  I am also grateful to be able to experience the natural world around me. I am conscious of water droplets on a fall leaf, reflections on a pond, calls of migrating geese, and the nourishing sensation in knowing that we are all part of a whole. 

This month, I encourage you to think deeply on who and what you are grateful for. Think about those things that are close and those things that contribute to the larger world around you. You can make a list in your journal, tell someone how much they mean to you, or step outside and offer a prayer of thanks. 

Find a sense of gratitude while tumbling inside the kaleidoscope. Accept and understand that the darkness is the balance to the light. Know that the fractured colors are mixing in a beautiful way to make something new.