For the first time in I don’t know how long, for the past chunk of time, I can’t write. Not a depression-made can’t write kind of thing, or a writer’s block thing, but “let’s just focus on getting through the day” kind of way. I’ve been cross stitching and walking and listening to a freakish amount of Deep Forest and crying and taking deep breaths as I watch those close to me go deeper into helplessness and loss and fear as two loved ones simultaneously get weaker and sicker as time goes on. As health things often do, it brings a crystal clear clarity to everything, what we’re here for, what we’re meant to do, how to best spend our days, what to really, truly appreciate.

And those questions I’ve been turning around in my mind, much like the way leaves twist and fall off the trees in autumn, they’ve been swirling around me and floating and crunching under my feet to not let me forget that they are the real fabric of life. I’ve been pursuing various paths of research and asked questions and reached no headway in certain areas and wondering if I’ve hit an impasse and need to redirect my course and if it’s the universe’s way of making sure I really want it. I wonder where my career is supposed to go and my family life and if I’ll ever go on even a date with someone who simultaneously makes me feel and laugh again. And, just as the leaves do, these questions get stuck in my hair or hitch a ride on my purse or stubbornly get stuck to my shoe. They float and they caress and they follow their simple path of gravity. Their written path of gravity, following the law of gravity.

We all have our own leaves falling, hitting us, reminding us, nudging us, asking us various questions about our lives. Sometimes they’re crystal clear, other times they’re kinda fuzzy and unsure. As I look into the face of my brand sparklin’ new baby niece and hear the excitement in my brother’s voice when he talks about his new role as father on one phone call and then hear tears of sadness on the next, as one watches a loved one fade away, the leaves seem to fall faster and clearer. And all I can think of is that this clarity is no mistake and of some grand design, that these are the moments we should pay attention to and the questions we should pay attention to because they are the quilt we wrap up in when we’re unsure of what to say, what to do or which way to turn.

Each leaf represents a choice that either we grabbed or let float away, and when raked into a giant big pile at the end of the season… We’re met with the important moments and we jump into the whole crinklin’ earthy heap of our lives, our loves, our fears, our regrets, our laughter, our mistakes, our joys and most of all, the snippets of clarity that we were lucky enough to witness because we dared to participate in it with our eyes and hearts open. And therefore, we don’t sink to the bottom, we’re held amid this big pile of leaves, buoyed by all the good stuff that was made sharper by the not-so-good stuff and squeal in delight at just how big and varied it is and how just okay we are.

So I guess I’ve been unable to write because I’ve been too busy watching the leaves fall and not busy enough deciphering what they’re trying to tell me. Instead of running from them and dodging them, I should be welcoming the way they tickle my neck and crackle when I step on them. Because just as each stitch helps me move towards completion of a project, each leaf is just as significant in creating a full and unique tapestry that will keep me warm, buoyed and safe in the knowledge that I’m still moving forward.

Also… something amazing you should check out… this video from the brilliant Reel News of the construction of Carrie Reichardt’s amazing statue of suffragette Mary Bamber.

Mary Bamber: A Revolutionary Woman from Reel News on Vimeo.