Poem #4  An Autumn Invitation

In this Autumn season
I ask the quiet place within me—
what might now grow
in this changing place?

From these
I begin to shape
a fuller self—

not to replace the lost,
but to honor
the open space.

Can I believe
life is bigger
than I imagined—
softer,
more open
than fear allowed?

So, I let go of old limits,
look past the familiar,
turn inward—
to the spark of hope,
the warmth of long-held dreams.

When one thing vanishes,
it leaves behind
a clearing,
a breath,
an invitation.

Just because it was so
does not mean
it must remain so.

The world has shifted.
And so may I.

And, here is the original reflection from which I wrote the free verse poem:

Reflection #4  An Autumn Invitation

“Thank god for the things I do not own.” –Teresa of Avila

It is chilly outside on this autumn afternoon. And, here I am, diving into my annual week of fall cleaning. Not to be taken lightly, the windows, curtains, floors, and walls must all be washed. The paint is touched up, and the oven is cleaned, not to be outdone by the refrigerator.

Autumn cleaning has its roots in an earlier time when people here in Pittsburgh heated their homes with coal. At the end of summer, it was time to scrub away the dirt and soot from the opened windows. I carry this tradition from my grandmothers’ and mother’s day to today. It is also a time to purge old paper files and donate unworn winter clothing from last season. I relish this cleaning ritual.

For me, cleaning is tied to my emotions. Bringing order out of disorder brings me peace of mind. I understand that some people hate cleaning. Perhaps it is an acquired mindset, and some people have not acquired it. Some don’t have the time and others feel guilt around it. Now, living in our right-sized condo, I am happy not to have my four-bedroom-story house. Then I would begin the top floor, and room by room, take the house apart. I’m thankful that today it takes much less time.

I recommend decluttering. Touch each object and possession and ask if it is to keep or go. Anything that remains can be polished, vacuumed, and dusted. When done with intention, my hope is that it feels like peace. The most touching thing about seasonal cleaning is what it stirs up inside of us. This ridding needs to be accomplished gently, according to the pace of the memories that come; the sorrows that have yet to be liberated to forgive oneself or to move on.

The key question we hold seems simply enough on the surface: “What do I want to let go of and what do I want to hang on to?” The true question is “What do I want to let go of and what do I want to give myself to?” To hang on feels needy and clinging. But in seeking what I want to give of myself is to transform everything. May this autumn take you to places where you find energy, challenge, and a renewed life. 

Now it’s your turn.

Take time to reflect and, if in a group, share as you feel able.

As I autumn clean (or not), I will:

a)    be gentle with myself according to the pace of memories.

b)    consider carefully what I need to let go of.

c)    examine what I want to give myself to.

d)    take it as an opportunity to move on.

—Patricia D. Brown