This week, I felt a shift in the atmosphere.
I was out and about with my dog Zeke and noticed the subtle change in intensity of the midday sunlight to that of late summer. With vegetation well past its peak, this change in the light signifies for me the door opening to the magic of autumn.
Autumn is written into my bones – so much so that these shifts in the atmosphere that take place each year register deep within my soul.
The nostalgia of autumns past surfaces in my heart space at the first inkling of the season’s onset.
Labor Day weekend in Toluca. The Jerry Lewis Muscular Dystrophy Association telethon on television at my grandma’s house in between stops at the festivities in Toluca. Returning to St. Stephen school each year the day after Labor Day. The Fall Festival at St. Stephen parish, complete with performances by the Ding-a-Ling sisters. (If you know, you know.) Fall activities in high school, including homecoming and Friday night football.
Harvest beginning, and with it, the expansive views returning over the cornfields. Pumpkins, squash, hay bales, scented candles and more coalescing into seasonal décor. Flannel shirts and hoodies. The autumn chill in the air. Hayrack rides. Bonfires. Wiener roasts. S’mores. Apple cider. Apple crisp. Drives through Starved Rock State Park to witness the brilliant colors. Trips to Tanner’s Orchard. Cool nights and warm blankets. Dark, rainy days; hot tea; and a good book in front of the fireplace.
With the shift in the atmosphere outside, there is a shift inside our souls, too.
At least for me, the tendency to engage in more extroverted activity in the spring and summer months gives way to the welcome return of a season conducive to my introspective temperament. I find it much easier to think more deeply and to concentrate on my creative endeavors in the autumn and winter, with some seasonal-sounding “dark academia” music playing in the background.
The reason I love autumn the most, however, is that palpable thinning in the veil between this existence and the invisible world just on the other side of our senses.
Although I probably tend to be more aware of the invisible all year-round than many, it is during these months that I feel the closest connection to my late family and friends. There is a deeper awareness that the world we live in and experience daily is not all there is to existence.
During these months, there are more internal conversations with loved ones. More synchronicities. More memories and insights. More difficult-to-logically-explain experiences in my daily life.
I learned a long time ago that sometimes logic must be tossed aside in these matters, and to simply appreciate the moment and move on with the eyes and ears of my heart kept wide open in faith.
This morning, I took Zeke outside and sat for a few minutes under one of our trees. The morning light shone gently on the yard behind us and the flowers that are on the back end of their journey through life this year.
While Zeke stubbornly planted himself on the ground, I took off my shoes and socks and walked on the wet, squishy grass below. As I walked around the backyard, I noticed an anthill forming that I had not noticed before and watched the ants busy at work. For a moment, I was transported back to my childhood, when I routinely noticed these kinds of things and stopped for a moment to admire them and revel in the great mystery of the natural world.
Indeed, this world is magical and wonder-full.
And every season works that magic and wonder in its own uniquely simple yet complex way.
But autumn …
Autumn is the master of magic and wonder.
And that magic and wonder is just beginning to unfold.
So sit down, grab a cup of hot cocoa and enjoy the ride.
SPIRIT MATTERS is a weekly column by Jerrilyn Zavada Novak that examines experiences common to the human spirit. Contact her at jzblue33@yahoo.com.