The Last Sunset of Summer

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the first day of Autumn in the Northern Hemisphere. Here in Maine, the transition is gorgeous. Sunsets are both vivid and soft, seeming to linger a bit longer than usual.

The leaves are barely starting to turn color. Swamp maples lead the way with their bright red hues, but otherwise the trees are only hinting at change, sometimes with just one branch, or orange tips to some of the leaves. Falling acorns have been bouncing off the tin roof of our little house in the woods with a loud cracking noise.

Last night I went down to sit on a large, flat rock at water’s edge to enjoy the last sunset of summer. I startled a beaver, who let me know it with a loud slap of his tail as he disappeared under the water.

Soon enough, he was back.

He didn’t seem to mind my presence as he swam back and forth, sometimes coming within eight feet of my spot. He began diving and surfacing. After each dive, I heard a loud crunching sound – he was eating acorns that had fallen in the lake! He sounded very content n his twilight feast.

There is so much to pay attention to and absorb at this time of year, or at any time really. Today, I can’t stop thinking of poet Mary Oliver’s instructions for living a life, from “A Poetry Handbook”:

“Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it.”

Mary Oliver left us this year, but she left behind so much wisdom that it’s hard to say she left at all.

Pay attention. What do you pay attention to, dear reader? What do you allow yourself to open to? And do you open not just to the beauty of the outside world, but to the beauty within you as well?

Be astounded. If you really, truly do open to the world and pay attention, I think you cannot help but be astounded by what you find. And in so doing, you will be changed.

Tell about it. When you are touched, smitten, astounded by the world, you often feel compelled to tell about it. You are, after all, in love. Those you tell will recognize it, and be enriched by your sharing.

We are, and always will be, communal creatures, lifting each other up.

I honor your loving heart,

John