The First Day of Autumn, 2001

The first full day of autumn has delivered its annual assurances that, in the greater sphere, the big wheels are turning as they always have. To think of change as reassuring may sound strange, but usually, change is worrisome only in the human sphere.

The little autumn changes I see look peaceful, not fearsome. Every Sunday for three summer months, I hung laundry to dry in the clean sunlight. Today though, the towels aren't drying as quickly under these scattered clouds. With the days now shorter and the sun lower in the sky, I may need to finish the clothes in the dryer tonight.

The same thing happened on the first weekend in October last year, and the weekend before the equinox two years ago. Everything seems nicely in the groove, in the bigger sphere.

To tumble the clothes in the dryer for a few minutes won't be any bother. Such a small and already-familiar change in my routine is reassuring, especially in contrast to the sometimes abrupt and brutal changes that happen in the human sphere.

This little reminder from the world, that I need to remain flexible, feels very gentle and is just what I need these days. With the easy flow from summer's baking days to autumn's crisp nights, moving on becomes tangible. It feels like we're making progress.

In the garden, the zinneas and calendula, which had withered in the summer heat, are now putting forth a second round of buds. They are telling the story of renewal in a language that delights my senses. I'm encouraged to see there is progress, even within the endlessly repeating cycle of the seasons.

Human affairs cast dark shadows on our understanding of cycles. These days, the cycle we know best is the unceasing violence in the Mideast. I despair over a world of adults who practice "an eye for an eye," because this cycle, if permitted long enough, must end in a world where everyone is blind. I cannot believe that will happen.

Luckily for my sense of hope, autumn has arrived, reminding me that some cycles spiral rather than loop. Dark times are the harsh passages between golden ages, when the human spirit sends forth a new season of buds.

This is worth the struggle. History justifies our hope.

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