"First Leaf" by Danna Faulds
The first of this year's
leaves lets go and drifts,
no breeze to bear it.
With lazy grace the leaf
unwinds its growing
season in a dancing
downward spiral, lands
in silence making of
itself a perfect offering
to the altar of the earth.
A single leaf catches my eye and I follow it, bright yellow and light, floating through the air, dancing weightlessly until it lands, gently caressing the grass underneath. Wishing for more, I gaze back up and see a performance before me, choreographed leaves moving freely thought the space surrounding me. I wonder what it's like to move like that, like a leaf in the breeze -- a little aviator without direction. I try it out.
I try it out as I walk slowly across the green amidst the leaves surrounding me. I try it out, grazing glances with people I pass by and as I move across the diagonal cross walk parting Court Street traffic -- cars now members of this impromptu performance I've entered into. The steps I take are light, but I walk steadily to prevent myself from thinking too hard. Unlike the leaf, I know where I'm going, but this time, I don't know which way I'll take to get there. I let go to the wind and let it carry me home.
I've been reflecting on the yoga practice as an offering. My movements, my breath, my presence, all gifts to offer to this existence. In the giving of this energy I find that I can receive with much more ease. Receiving support from the ground, from what's going on all around me, taking in appreciation of simplicities and accepting what's being offered. This all comes more naturally. Again and again, asking myself the questions --
what can I let go of to the altar of the earth?
and what is being offered in return?
May this season offer you what's needed as the leaves fall and the cycles continue turning.