We Are As The Earth

An ode to the end of summer

We are as the earth.

In rhythms of growth and glory.

May we savour the final blooms of summer, drinking in their colour and light. Inhaling the storied scents of flowers that fought through earth's dark to blossom.

We are as the earth.

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Seasons feel like an overused device in reflections on the ebbs and flows of our lives. But that’s because it works well. I’m convinced it works because such rhythms of the earth mirror our own, and vice versa, by design of our Creator. So let’s use it some more.

I live in central Pennsylvania, so autumn and winter rush in harsh and quick, bringing nothing but cold and dark for months on end. This year will be our third winter, so the cooling of days often brings an intermingling of relief and budding nerves about the dark that lies ahead. At this moment, though, I’m checking in early. Intentionally savouring the slow winding down of summer, and it’s replacing dread with gratitude.

I’m enjoying the bursts of color. The green leaves of all shades, shapes. and textures. The eager burst-open yellow of sunflowers held up by (still) remarkably robust stalks. I’m inhaling the soft, sweet smell of the last few pink roses we’ll get in my front garden this year. The freshness of the air filled with natural life, crowded in every open space, yet sharing space. I’m enjoying the sounds of birds as they assess the terrain to determine how long they can be sure they’ll find a home. Of life hidden in bushes where rabbits burrow and chipmunks seem to be playing games.

The gratitude I feel is for the presence to notice. And further, to notice that all these things are not constant; this is the earth in bloom.

Soon it won’t be.

And I hope for the presence to notice that neither is the long season of dark and dormant earth constant.

I’ve struggled with patience through the winter, allowing the mere presence of darkness to convince me of its permanence. And I’ve struggled with patience in life, believing that the slow grind of daily effort may never amount to anything beautiful. But just as the dark is simply there, still giving way even to dim light each day in winter months, I’m beginning to believe that the slow work of showing up every day- for my health, to write, to learn- is cultivating a beauty that will bloom in time.

We are as the earth. We turn, just as it turns. We grow, just as it grows. We bloom, just as it blooms. We reflect glory, as it reflects glory.

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Musical Meditiations

Vivaldi’s Four Seasons has always reflected the beauty held in the seasons of earth, and reminds me that while each season feels so different, there is always beauty in it. Just as there is always beauty in us.