....falling into now

Yogis,
Two threads have been weaving together for me this past week. Mindfulness and fall. First I had chosen to walk through my days consciously noticing the ways that I know it is fall. During this time, I was also asked for my definition of mindfulness. I realized the exercise I had undertaken was exactly that. Mindfulness.

It has become an overused word, but to me it has a simple definition. Being here in order to notice now. Keeping the senses and the mind attached to life as it is happening. Unfortunately, our minds are not usually on board with what sounds so simple. As our body is doing one thing, our mind is most often reliving what already happened, or grasping for what is to come, at the expense of living this precious moment that sits patiently waiting right under our feet.

What are the ways that I know it is fall without the aid of a calendar? I watched.

There are the obvious signs found in cooler days and changing colors. The fewer and fewer hours of sun as she lowers herself in the sky. But then there are others. Those that I could easily pass by while lost in thought.

Leaves suddenly let go of their homes above us to carpet the earth we walk on. Every step I take creates the crackle of dried leaves. I love that noise!  Memories flood in of raking leaf piles into which my boys would take a running leap. Back even further to burning leaves in the backyard as a child. The swish of the broom required to clear the front steps at least once a day. The crow caws. The fox screams. The buck snorts and stomps his hoof. I can hear fall.

I step out the door for my evening walk to the smell of smoke hanging in the air. Families now using their fireplaces and wood burning stoves. I love that smell! I begin using my firepit again and as the fire tender, by the end of the evening each time I run a hand through my hair, I can smell fall. I wait as long as possible to wash it out.

I know its fall when the I am greeted at the store by overflowing baskets of apples.  Carmel apples sit in a window display. The tastes of pumpkin, cinnamon and nutmeg appealing once again. A craving for an afternoon cup of tea. I can taste fall.

The berries that appear on the tree between our house and the neighbors. Each year they and I would wait to see when the raucous flock of birds would appear to devour them. This year I will have to watch alone.  Squirrels in a frenzy (the exact opposite of mindful) as they bury and scamper. Keeping a wary eye on the walnut tree as I quickly pass beneath, hopeful I won’t be hit in the head or twist an ankle on the dropping tennis ball sized nuts. I can see fall.

Then on Wednesday I spent the afternoon with my five-year-old grandson. It was almost as if the Universe had set me up……

We decided to take a mindful walk where we found bugs, leaves and the now vivid green moss to zoom in on to see closer. And the very first thing he says to me as we start down the sidewalk is ‘Nana, I love the sound of the leaves as I walk on them!’.  Then when we get back and head to his backyard he asks ‘Nana, want to jump in the leaves with me?’ A hesitation…..and then of course I did.

My updated definition of mindfulness is to see the world as a five-year-old does.

A leaf fell out of my bra that night,
SARAH