I went for a long walk the other day to try and capture some fall colour with my camera. Shortly after setting out, I started thinking I wasn鈥檛 going to be successful. The leaves had turned weeks ago, and we鈥檇 had a few bad windstorms in the meantime. The trees were looking patchy and sad. I鈥檓 too late, I thought, and almost went home.But, as I walked, I looked more closely and focused on the leaves that were still on the trees. I peered at them, noticing how the sunlight shone through. Some were still a vibrant red, orange or yellow and glowed with an inner light. Others had gone translucent and I could see their delicate inner structure revealed in a way I wouldn鈥檛 have during the spring or summer. I took photos of those gently glowing leaves and marveled at what their transformation revealed 鈥� and the gift I鈥檇 received in noticing them.
There鈥檚 a phrase that makes its way around social media during the fall. It goes something like 鈥淭he trees are about to show us just how lovely it can be to let go.鈥� The words echoed in my head as I snapped photos of those leaves and took in their beauty. I couldn鈥檛 find out through Google who originally had that insight, but they were right.聽
I鈥檓 receiving a lot of lessons in letting go lately. Maybe it鈥檚 the events of 2020, that I鈥檓 getting older, or something else. Probably a mix of things. No matter the reason, the call to let go keeps repeating in many forms. There have been realizations that I can鈥檛 do everything and that endlessly scrolling social media for the latest on COVID-19, the U.S. election, or some other calamity probably isn鈥檛 the best thing for my mental health. I鈥檝e gotten subtle 鈥� and sometimes insistent 鈥� urgings from loved ones that I might not need to worry so much about something I can鈥檛 control.
It鈥檚 not easy, letting go. Because it means admitting I鈥檓 not in control, and I don鈥檛 like that. I want to think I鈥檓 in control even when I know, deep down, I鈥檓 really not.聽
Other poems and prayers about letting go have been coming to me lately, too. Someone reminded me about the Serenity Prayer and the words 鈥淕od grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.鈥� The person leading a Zoom morning prayer group the other day pointed us to a poem by Edwina Gately called 鈥淟et Your God Love You.鈥� I was so taken with the poem鈥檚 call to stop and be silent so that God can look upon you with 鈥渆normous love.鈥� It鈥檚 a beautiful poem about surrendering and letting go into God鈥檚 love 鈥� something I needed to hear right then to settle my preoccupations and worries about the day ahead.聽
Part of the prayer liturgy for another morning was the phrase 鈥淟et us now surrender our own expectations for this day, and ask to be led by the working of the Spirit.鈥� Again, another invitation to let go and trust and move through my day in a contemplative, open way rather than one focused on controlling outcomes.聽
Apparently, letting go is a lesson I鈥檓 forever learning, and this year has seemed like I鈥檓 doing an advanced degree in it. Perhaps one day I鈥檒l graduate. Until then, I鈥檓 going to try and heed those invitations to let go, surrender my expectations and let God love me. They seem to be bubbling up all around, and each is an opportunity to stop, refocus and realize what鈥檚 most important.聽
Kevin Aschenbrenner is a Victoria-based writer, poet and communications professional. He holds an M.A. in Culture and Spirituality from the Sophia Center at Holy Names University in Oakland, Calif. He blogs at聽.
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* This article was also published in the print edition of the tImes Colonist on Saturday, Novemeber 21st 2020
Photo of leaves by Kevin Aschenbrenner
