The Art of Threshing © Sylvia Stocker
And so the autumn has come, with cool nights,
pungent fragrances, bird migrations
and mammalian hibernations.
The autumn has come, with its bright colors,
fiery before the long cold,
a last gasp of liveliness before the long dormancy.
The autumn has come – and the harvest
to bring us through the winter,
through to another season of growing.
The farmer gathers the crops and tills the soil under again.
The thresher gathers the wheat,
beating the nourishing berries
and adding the chaff to the compost for another season.
And we, we farmers of the soul,
we threshers of life’s meaning,
in our autumn we, too, may harvest,
we too may gather what nourishes our souls
and till what no longer serves us into the soil of our living.
Nothing, no part of our experience, is wasted.
Some experiences, memories, intentions, and feelings
we carry forward.
Others we leave behind,
adding them to the humus
so that they will provide fertile ground for future growing.
We might gather in peace, remembering
– and letting go –
moments of discord.
We might gather in laughter and tears, remembering
– and letting go –
times of disconnection or indifference.
We might gather in courageous love, remembering
– and letting go –
anxiety and fear.
The autumn has come.
The harvest has come.
May we gather in what we hold worthwhile.
That which no longer serves us, may we gently let go.