It’s a strange thing to be finding – or even looking for – stillness in the time of whirling winds, spinning leaves and earth-drenching rain; when the conflict in the heavens is between the burgeoning fullness of life on earth and sun’s own need to refine his activity down to a small, silent point.

At this time you are like a spider which builds its web facing into the summer meadows and expects to catch the full harvest of insects enjoying the light and warmth of the day. Instead, the blasts of autumn wind come racing over the hills, driving showers of rain before them – and you realize that you are the one who is caught, on the web of your own expectation of plenty.

It’s hard to see the sun delighting in the turning leaves and realize that you also have to let go of your easy words and concepts. But this is the lesson of life – that the living must always give way to the refining, paring-down activity of fall. And it’s the essential message of your inner being just as it is of the sun.

To be left with nothing? The spider is left with nothing – every creature which dwells in the expectation of fullness is left with nothing. Autumn is the time, par excellence, of resources. To let go, as a poet, of your well-chosen epithets, your sun-warmed store of words, and go into a place where the earth is still, where your body is silent – even while the wind is lashing the trees into gorgeous shapes and colors – this is the message of the sun. And the reason for this is that all your sentiments and fine feelings must die into the earth to allow for new life to come forth. All your resources are buried within the stillness and silence. You owe nothing to the leaves and wind and falling rain. The only hope for the future is to go into the center of being. The spider cannot do this – except that the Creator provides for it through instinct. But you as a poet, as a creative human spirit, must make the journey inwards – to fly from thoughts and words so that you may win ‘the soul which is forever drenched in Love’.

Pledge

The cold of autumn is my robe and gown -

I wrap it round me, seek no other dress;

abandon warmth of summer with a frown,

and learn to care for nothing, live on less.

The fallen wood I burn is all my own -

those high ideals and flowering thoughts I grew;

now in the cloth which fall alone has sewn

I pledge to see the might of winter through.

Drenched

And so I’m spun on rainbows, climbing sun,

and cloud-drenched rain, as if my spider-soul

had thought to catch what summer had begun

but found instead that fall had caught it whole.

So all my thoughts and words are left to spin

where once they flew with certainty above,

and I must fly from them that I may win

the soul which is forever drenched in Love.

Lives

To leave the earth – my body – far behind

and journey on in stillness to the source,

I have to know in truth that what I’ll find

is birth and death to earth’s own vital force.

And at the gate I’ll leave my words like robes

which I have worn to show my worldly state

and enter into knowledge of the globes

which spun me into lives both small and great.

Best wishes, today,

Landar

©landar 2011. All rights reserved

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Author: Landar

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