Around this time last year I ran a session with the youth leadership group of one of NYC’s soccer teams, about the upcoming 2026 World Cup. Their coordinator kicked things off with an intro exercise, in which each person shared what the Fall brings to mind. When it came to his own turn he said that the leaves falling from the trees make him think not of deaths and endings, but of shedding, reminding him to shed any unwanted or unhelpful thoughts, and ways of thinking, and start afresh.
His comment has stayed with me. It came to mind today as I raked and swept the fallen leaves in the backyard. I scooped up mini piles (there will be more to come) of dry and crumbling leaves of many colors (with a soft feathery ball among them - D the cat is pretty adept at hunting). There was something melancholic but also comforting about it, particularly at this time with the next US election around the corner and its accompanying sense of chaos and disconnection - a reminder in flurries of crumbling leaves that that perennial cycles of decline and slumber and renewal extend so far behind and so far ahead of our short lives.
These thoughts were swiftly followed by useless rage at oppressive governments, in the past, and right now, as violence wipes out thousands of lives and homes are destroyed, families, and the places where they too would have enjoyed the light from this same sun, enjoyed their own comforting rituals at different times of year.
