Written by Heather Hymas
After spending the last several weekends watching autumn sweep over the mountains and the leaves change colors, I woke up to this poem:
“Journey of a Leaf”
A small sprig, a tiny start, a connection
New life bursting from the mother branch
I suck, I cling, I begin to develop, to come into my own shape
I emerge small but glorious
I fill out, I expand, I burst with green energy
I float in the wind, I smile, I dance, I wave
I soak in the sun, the water, and the breeze
I live, I grow, I breathe
Spring passes in an instant, a flash of rapid change
Summer simmers and sizzles, exciting my senses
It brings joy, pain, experience, love, and light
I feel whole, strong, and stable
Fall sweeps in like a bandit stealing my identity
My gorgeous green begins to fade, to lose its luster
I panic, I am scared, wanting time to stand still, to stop for me
It refuses; I have no choice but to obey, to follow
Something magical happens; I burst into fantastic color
Crimson so deep and passionate, I light up the hillside with fire
Orange so warm and subtle, I wrap around you like a soft blanket
Yellow, so rich, so bright, I shine, I sparkle, I create light
Ever so slowly, I feel my connection slipping
I begin to let go, to release
I break away from the mother branch and I embrace the wind
We fly, we spin, we are free. I am complete; I am my own
Eventually, I reach the ground; I am surrounded by a blanket of golden brothers
I feel comfort and peace in our togetherness; we crunch, we crackle, we breakdown
I begin to feel winter creeping in, cold, brisk, and brilliant; it welcomes me
I return into the ground. I wait for spring and my chance to begin again…
Recently, I spent the weekend in the mountains at a cabin. Fall was in full bloom (pun intended). As I stood outside in the chilly autumn breeze, looking at the trees all around me, they were standing completely bare; no leaves, no color, stoic, tall. I thought how sad it was that they had lost all their leaves. How empty and cold the landscape looked. I mentioned this to my daughter, and she seemed shocked.
She said, “It is not sad or ugly. I think it is beautiful. Don’t you know my favorite seasons are fall and winter?” I asked her what she liked about it. She replied without hesitation, “It’s different. Without all the distractions and stuff covering up the trees and the mountain, you can see what’s truly there. It’s raw… and it’s great.”
This got me thinking once again about perspective. Where I saw bare and ugly, she saw raw and beautiful. Where I felt sad and empty, she felt happy and full. She liked what she saw because it was different. What I thought was the beauty of the trees, their leaves and color, she thought covered up the real beauty. Her perspective was that what lay underneath was the real beauty of the landscape.
As I plunge headfirst into my 40s, or the second half of my life, as I am inclined to think of it — the last half. I find this metaphor very telling. It is so easy to get caught up in what we have on the outside; our bodies, our beauty, our youth, our roles in society, our distractions, but all of these things are going to fade. What really matters is what lies underneath. What do we have when all our leaves fall off and we become exposed? When my color fades and my youth escapes and floats quietly to the ground, will I be standing on the mountain shining in the crisp autumn sun, raw and beautiful, or will I be left out in the cold breeze, bare and ugly?
We have all met these types of trees in our lives, the ones that are living in the past, clinging to the few bright colors they have remaining, or trying to catch the last crisp leaves of youth as they float away, desperately attempting to glue them back on. I do not want to be one of those trees. I remember, as a teenager, meeting people in their late 40s or 50s and thinking how awful it must be to be “that old.” Somehow, now that I am one of those people, I do not feel old. I might be changing colors on the outside, but on the inside I am still a gorgeous green.
So, how do we age gracefully? I believe the most important concept to embrace is the idea of living in the moment. If I am stuck re-living or glorifying the past, I am missing what is happening right now. If I am worried about what I am losing, I am missing all the things that I am gaining. I might be losing my youthful appearance, a strong, fit body, a sharp memory, pigment in my hair, and my stamina to stay up past midnight more than three nights in a row, but look at all that I am acquiring.
Wait, what am I acquiring again? Oh yes, I now have wrinkles, glasses, age spots, gray hair, the effects of gravity, and a slower processing speed in all areas…I’m kidding. Well, sort of. All of those things may be true, but remember, it is what is underneath that truly matters. What am I when all of the colors fade?
I have acquired traits such as empathy, bravery, a real connection with people and the world around me, a caring heart, an open mind, wisdom, control of my emotions (well, sometimes), and a willingness to put the needs of others above my own. I have learned how to give unconditional love, and to love myself. I have learned the true meaning of “don’t sweat the small stuff” — and most of it is small stuff. When I get caught up in trivial concerns and worrying about my image or the future, I have learned to ask myself, “If I were to die tomorrow, would this really matter?” Most of the time, the answer is a resounding “no.”
Being able to look at things objectively and focus on what is really important has changed my perspective and my life. That’s not to say that this is always easy, or that I don’t have to work at it, but I am aware now, and I can catch myself more often than not. I find these qualities so much more attractive than the beauty of my youth. That is not to say that there are not things that I miss. I am sure there are things we all miss, but I am talking about seeing past the distractions to the raw and the bare you.
So, as I watch my leaves begin to change colors, and some just slowly float away forever, I am grateful for the new perspective I have about what beauty lies in the landscape underneath. I am excited to go from green to red to orange to yellow, and to dancing freely with the wind. I am inspired by the people who have gone before me. Today, I don’t see them as old. I see them as different, and different is beautiful.
Heather Hymas has been a teacher in one form or another for the past 14 years. She has taught fourth grade, intermediate school, and college English, both at Dixie State University and Southern Utah University. She currently works as a teacher in a residential treatment center for troubled youth. She has a B.S. in elementary education, a master’s degree in education, and is currently working on her doctorate. She lives in St. George with her teenage daughter.
