Honoring What Was
Walking the trail is much louder now. This carpet of dried leaves offers no cushion to my feet as I rustle and shuffle along. Multi-colored leaves crackling, my boot soles slipping to find the flat amidst the newly fallen chaos. The sun, now lower as our planet tips, casting long shadows that stretch across the forest floor.
A time to honor the ancestors they say, those old stories. A time of reckoning with what was, what has been, what can no longer be undone. A time to acknowledge who they were and what they did to get me here; what little I know of it. As I walk and think of my ancestors, my own shadow is present with every step, shimmering across the bed of leaves. It won't leave, no matter which way I turn, it is there. So too, it occurs to me, is our history.
These trees are still standing tall even without their annual adornments. Their roots digging deep into all that was, all that ever has been. At this time of year they are nourished, supported only by what has gone before, what has been preserved, that treasure gathered up to be cherished and shared.
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What of my, and our, history do I cherish? What of it nourishes me in the dark times? What can I draw on for support? What of it do I share with others?
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And what of my, and our, history do I keep in shadow? Denied, ignored, hidden away in the hopes that it won't rear it's head again?
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So I sit down with my back to the sun, its rays barely scraping above the ridge of the mountain that holds me. And there it is in front of me - my shadow. It's still there. Now we are looking directly at each other.
I see it as an absence of light, a hole in the brilliance.
It sees me as the one blocking the light.
What happens if I let the light shine on one small part? If I take one thing I, or we, have done or said and I see it. I claim it as mine. Maybe I even honor it for what it is. I may know I'll never do it again, that it was a mistake, now I have the luxury of looking back on its consequences. But can I own it? Giving it it's rightful place in the story of me?
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Standing to continue my walk I recognize the wisdom of the ancestors who lived in greater balance with the seasons. I realize we need to carve out time, and space, to honor what was - all of it. Time to reckon with what has gone before and the fullness of who we are.
What is one thing you can do at this time to honor what has gone before?
Free Guided Meditation:
Meet Your Shadow