Fall is a busy time. Whether you are caught up in the back-to school calendar or the agricultural calendar or have construction projects underway, there’s a lot we want to get done before the winter weather begins. I keep my “do list” on yellow sticky-notes that proliferate like autumn leaves this time of year. In fact, the image of orange, yellow and brown leaves swirling in the wind and drifting over the walkways captures perfectly my sense of scattered busy-ness as fall activities intensify. It helps to remember that much of what we are holding, much of what swirls by can be let go like leaves from a tree.
The tough part is discerning what we can let go. Just reading all those e-mails, or handouts that come home from my son’s school, takes time. We can’t always decide leaf by leaf what to let go. When we identify with all those items on the sticky-notes, our own spirits become scattered and are easily buffeted by even a gentle breeze. Instead of trying to think about each leaf, to organize each leaf, I have started thinking like the trunk of the tree. Because what the tree is doing during the fall transition is moving nutrients from the edges of its body into its core, its trunk, where they will be safe until spring. What is at the core of who I am? What is at the core of my life? When the storm winds blow and leaves flutter away, what remains?
So how do we think like a tree trunk? This is one of the gifts of spiritual practice. Whenever we take time for practice we have an opportunity to center ourselves and to ground ourselves. This is especially true during the busy season. When we return our attention to what is truly important to us, the unimportant things often flutter away. The mere act of returning our attention to our spiritual life strengthens our soul, strengthens our relationship to what matters. When we sit in meditation or prayer, or whatever our favorite spiritual practice may be, we gather our energies in to the center, and strengthen ourselves for whatever storms may come.
The tough part is discerning what we can let go. Just reading all those e-mails, or handouts that come home from my son’s school, takes time. We can’t always decide leaf by leaf what to let go. When we identify with all those items on the sticky-notes, our own spirits become scattered and are easily buffeted by even a gentle breeze. Instead of trying to think about each leaf, to organize each leaf, I have started thinking like the trunk of the tree. Because what the tree is doing during the fall transition is moving nutrients from the edges of its body into its core, its trunk, where they will be safe until spring. What is at the core of who I am? What is at the core of my life? When the storm winds blow and leaves flutter away, what remains? 
So how do we think like a tree trunk? This is one of the gifts of spiritual practice. Whenever we take time for practice we have an opportunity to center ourselves and to ground ourselves. This is especially true during the busy season. When we return our attention to what is truly important to us, the unimportant things often flutter away. The mere act of returning our attention to our spiritual life strengthens our soul, strengthens our relationship to what matters. When we sit in meditation or prayer, or whatever our favorite spiritual practice may be, we gather our energies in to the center, and strengthen ourselves for whatever storms may come.
