Belonging to the House of October

How do we belong to October?

Oct 07, 2024

*

Belonging in the House of October

“I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”
- L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

The Leaves

For months they are magnificent, lush, and green, but as temperatures cool, leaves transform into emanating, glowing hues. We have to catch the show at the right time. A week too late, and the leaves could be gone, fallen to the ground in a dusty heap.

Why do trees lose their magnificent crown, drop their jewels, shed their shimmering coats, just before the onslaught of bitter, brutal cold, winter winds, and ice and snow? Why at that moment of time? Isn't this when they need their beautiful wrap of red, gold or yellow the most? And isn't winter when I long to see color the most, too, during the long dark months when I only see white, gray or brown?

“Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.”
-Jim Bishop

Letting Go

Abscission (noun)*

the act of cutting off; sudden termination.
Botany. the normal separation of flowers, fruit, and leaves from plants.

A tree lets go of its glory, gives up part of its treasure–its leaves–and only a spindly skeleton remains. With a dark, cold season approaching, the deciduous tree surrenders bravely as it is stripped of its glorious coat and stands bare naked in the coldest months of the year.

In the whirlwind of life the tree is firmly planted. It may sway in the wind, but it won’t come out of the ground. Its roots are firmly established. The tree has found peace, a place of rest, amidst seasons, the bitter winter, and the whirlwind of life.

It has returned to its rest. When leaves fall, they return to their place of rest.

Surviving the winter and the environment where trees are planted is part of the process. During one season the tree bears fruit, in another season, the seeds fall and lie dormant in the ground, but the seeds do not die in the winter. They return to their rest–and wait.

You, too, are cultivating life, even in darkness, even in the long winters of your life.

"Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree." -Emily Bronte

Belonging to the House of October

Belonging to the House of October, as in: trees laughing leaves, floating in the wind.
I catch a handful of laughter, toss it back in the air.

Belonging to the House of October, as in: the hidden beauty of letting go, or in growing old, revealed and witnessed through vibrant colors of burnt orange, flaming scarlet, deep gold.

I see the lines of mirth and hues of grace in an aging autumn.

And it reminds me of me, of us, of all of us, each year we pass through another autumn, an unknown number of autumns remaining.

Belonging to the house of October, as in: the beauty of letting go, of surrender, as I witness the tree succumbing to the cold of winter without its luscious wrap of leaves. The tree, another year older, yields to the process of time and change.

I, too, have seasons of hard times, removal, loss, and renewal.

Belonging to the House of October, as in: letting go…letting go of expectations, of regrets, of pains…and even watching youthful green disappear as quickly as it came.

Belonging to the House of October, as in: I soon will see the tree, standing in the middle of winter like a stark, bare skeleton with spindly limbs. The Coat Remover removes the glorious, warm wrap of leaves.

But only the leaves have died.

The tree remains alive and breathing, waiting for its time to bloom again.

Belonging to the House of October, as in:

Senescent (adjective)*

growing old; aging.
Cell Biology. (of a cell) no longer capable of dividing but still alive and metabolically active.

*definitions from dictionary.com

The House of October speaks its own language from deep within–the language of the tree, of leaves, of winds…of our own souls, our minds, hearts, and spirit.

Belonging is a deeply rooted place, like old, stately trees belonging in place.

Like the trees, I’ve changed, I am changing–and hopefully we all are–as we find our more true authentic selves.

The change happens like a magic switch. it happens so fast, so imperceptibly, and yet so quickly.

Autumn holds both joy and sorrow. It’s a bittersweet season–full of beauty, but also death.

Belonging to the House of October could mean a letting go, a death of sorts–but also signals beauty and growth–a necessary season. The abscission may be momentarily painful, but the joy is greater long-term nourishment and sustainability.

Letting go hurts–we are human, after all–but sometimes our belonging means staying in place and letting the leaves fall

What does belonging to autumn, or October, mean to you? What do you need to surrender, to let go, to accept? Perhaps it’s regrets, unrealistic expectations, toxic relationships. Perhaps it’s too many activities. Perhaps it’s a slowing done, getting cozy and settling in before winter. Perhaps there are visions of dreams and hopes and longings. Perhaps it’s something else. How do you define belonging to the house of October?

“He found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his dreams.” -J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Song for Autumn
by Mary Oliver

Don’t you imagine the leaves dream now
how comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of the air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees, especially those with
mossy hollows, are beginning to look for

the birds that will come—six, a dozen—to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
stiffens and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its long blue shadows. The wind wags
its many tails. And in the evening
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.

Stories of Loneliness

I can’t often predict when it will strike–that pang in the depths that speak of loneliness, that pang and ache that surprises me - layers of loneliness from multiple angles. It often happens when I step away from the usual and ordinary schedule, from the regular rhythm of life. When I give myself space to let my mind and body relax, then the layers unearth.

I was near a grove of pine trees this weekend, and the woodsy smell of pine needles wafted in the wind as I stared at the blanket of pine needles resting on the earth. Tears sprang to my eyes as I was reminded of my childhood in the south. Homesickness came over me like a wave. I miss it–my childhood home, the trees in the backyard that looked like a mini-forest, the pine needles falling everywhere, blanketing the ground.

I imagine how much my mother misses it, too. This was her home for over 45 years. She had a practice of feeding the birds and growing things, like roses, and even in later years had pomegranates and blueberries. She can’t grow those things anymore, and I’m struck with the pains of those losses. She is no longer in that house, but also she can’t bend or garden. To experience the joy of these simple things in life, someone must provide them for her: take her to gardens so she can revel in the beauty of flowers and nature. Imagine that you can no longer do these things for yourself but must rely on someone else for even this.

That is yet another layer of loneliness.

I miss the childhood home, and I have other layers of loneliness creeping into my days. Our loneliness changes as we enter through different seasons of our lives.

My loneliness belongs to me–and is unique to me–just as yours is to you. It’s a part of our lives, our days, a regular part of our existence. Sometimes, it is a warning signal we must heed that we have too much solitude and not enough togetherness, not enough connection.

But I’m convinced loneliness is also part of our human existence. It’s part of our existence to be lonely for some reason or another, for some time or another, in our various forms of disconnectedness, and in the brokenness of our physical, emotional, social, and spiritual lives.

What is your story of loneliness?

Writing Updates

It has been a long minute since I wrote a newsletter! I took a long social media break from social media, and though the plan was to take a one month break, it ended up being a little longer. And while I planned to write here, I did end up taking a break from here as well. I highly recommend taking regular social media breaks. It is SO GOOD for the soul and a healthy practice.

I returned to social media with a renewed sense of how I want to affiliate with social media. It’s a TOOL, something I USE, and not something that uses me. My new practice is to post less often, and jump in less often. Because after taking the break, I was happy and not terribly aching to return to it. It’s a tool I need, use, and find important, but also it isn’t something I must rely on for friendship, communication, and true engagement and authenticity. I use it and will continue to do so, but I have a fresh perspective on how I’d like to engage. It feels good to take control of it–because let’s be honest, it’s addictive, and it can easily take over us if we don’t take control of it.

Question for you:
How have you established healthy boundaries with social media?

So, because it’s been a long minute (my last post was in July here), here are some writing updates, podcast interviews, a magazine interview, and such.

First, my book, Beyond Ethnic Loneliness, is on sale at Amazon here! It’s the first time it’s gone on sale. : ) If you’ve read it, a review would be WONDERFUL. The more reviews, the more Amazon will promote the book in its algorithms. : )

Other fantastic writing news:

I have some devos published here, just released, in Pray a Word for Strength, published by Guideposts! Available on Amazon and through Guideposts. : )

I had a delightful interview with Brian Allain, of Find Your Next Calling and How to Heal Our Divides (and who started Publishing in Color and Writing For Your Life). You can watch our interview here or here.

What’s amazing is that I attended a Publishing in Color online conference and that’s how I first met my agent. It’s amazing now to come back full circle–and actually have an interview with the founder of this conference!!

Also, I was honored to be on Sarah Westfall’s podcast in August! You can listen to that wonderful conversation here. Sarah has a wonderful new book out called The Way of Belonging. We both write about belonging and I recommend her book. : )

It was a joy to have this conversation with Heidy de la Cruz on her podcast The American Dream in the Eyes of Immigrants! Catch that lively conversation right here.

I had the privilege of an interview with Together Magazine in the UK! One of the surprises (shocks, actually) is that they put my face on the cover! I was googling the article–and my jaw dropped when I saw that they had used the photo on the issue cover. Well, that was a moment. Here’s the cover - I’m not sure how to access the article yet (you have to subscribe), but if I figure out a way, I’ll share. And for fun, here’s the cover:

A huge thank you to AACC (Asian American Christian Collaborative) for their book review that was in their latest newsletter! You can read it here.

Other talks:

I had the privilege of speaking to a group of HR professionals recently on the topic of “Supporting Diverse Employees in the Workplace.”

I also had the joy of leading a talk titled “Using Storytelling in Your Job Search” to a group of about 60 jobseekers.

Dear friends, what does belonging to the house of October mean to you? Is it a season of letting go, of surrender? Is it settling in, getting ready to rest, a season of comfort and coziness, and greater rest? Or is it something else entirely? I’d love to hear from you.

Peace,

Belonging and the Human Experience

Discussion about this post