To me, autumn is a season of soft beauty and bitter-sweet nostalgia. I love the deep blue skies, gentle breezes, warm colours and the rusty-gate autumn call of the magpies. Autumn is a time of bounty in the veggie garden. It’s a time to celebrate the good things we find in our lives and to let anything that is holding us back fall away.
Autumn has always been associated with death, though this is not as morbid as it sounds. It is simply about matters drawing to a natural conclusion and the falling into dormancy. The natural closing down of life over autumn allows for the reflection and rest of winter and the rebirth of spring. As in nature so in life; the natural conclusion of some matters makes way for new thought, new ideas, and new perspectives.
Autumn in Melbourne
Because we live in a temperate climate here in Melbourne, the signs of nature shutting down in autumn and winter are less obvious than in colder climates, where the land is blanketed with snow, rivers freeze and it’s impossible to sow crops until the ground thaws in spring. Here in autumn, we notice the gradual shortening of days and the lengthening of shadows as the sun sinks lower in the sky. Very few native trees are deciduous, but European trees that have been planted here still respond to the change of season by shedding their leaves. The sap that has been nourishing the twigs, leaves, flowers and fruit travels inwards to the tree’s core during autumn and rests there dormant during the winter, waiting for the warmth of spring. These things are cues for Melbournians to wind down, cool down, and start taking life a little slower.
Chinese Medicine and Autumn
Autumn is governed by Yang Ming in Chinese medicine thinking and relates to the Lungs and Large Intestine. Yang Ming translates ‘yang brightness’ and represents the scorching heat of the late summer sun in the late afternoon and early evening. Normally at this time of year the body tends to be parched due the hot north wind blowing into Melbourne from the desert all summer. Dry conditions of the skin, respiratory and digestive systems tend to manifest.
This year however, we have had a particularly mild and humid summer in Melbourne. For veggie gardeners, this has shown up in the unusual amount of rot and mold that plagued our tomatoes and zucchinis. As in the garden, so in the body; the Lungs and Large Intestine are more likely to be affected by pathological warm fluids this year. In Chinese medicine we call this damp-heat. Damp-heat manifests in the body as hot, stuffy lungs, productive coughs and snotty noses, or sticky and sluggish or loose and smelly bowel movements. Skin conditions such as acne or eczema, which are manifestations of damp-heat on the skin, could also worsen at this time.
The Emotions of Autumn
It’s normal for emotions related to loss to come up during autumn. Loneliness, feelings of isolation, sadness, emptiness and grief old or new are easily triggered by autumn’s reminder of the impermanence of life. If these emotions are with us for too long, or are too intense to handle, depression can set in.
I would like to acknowledge everyone who has been affected by loss and grief in this last, tough year in Melbourne. Not only those who have lost someone dear to them, but also those who are grieving the loss of their home, their livelihood, their sense of self or their freedom of self-expression in any way, shape or form. My heart goes out to you.
A time for reflection
Autumn is a time to slow down a little after the frenetic excitement of summer. It’s a good time to practice reflection in any way that suits you; meditating, spending time in the bush, gardening, or just taking the time to sit down and enjoy a long, slow cup of tea. Autumn provides a great opportunity to redefine priorities, discard anything that is holding us back, take stock of what is truly important to us and to concentrate our efforts there. It’s a time to condense, filter and clarify our intentions and appreciate the good things in life.
To me, the true meaning of gratefulness is to understand what it is we have and to act accordingly. To share when we have a bounty. To spend time with those who mean the most to us. To share time and love with someone who is lonely. If we are lucky enough to be financially comfortable to let that comfort spill over to those who are less fortunate. I’m particularly reminded of those in our community who are homeless at this time of year; life gets tougher for them as the weather gets colder.
A Little Moth Visitor
Last week I was visited by a dusty, grey moth. She sat on my shoulder all evening. It seemed to be nature’s way of comforting me when I felt particularly sad. We’ve had an unusual number of moths flying into our kitchen in the evening recently.
Like lots of other beautiful creatures, moths have been associated with transformation, completion and death in many indigenous cultures. The life of the moth is a fabulous reminder of the cycle of birth, change, reproduction, death and rebirth, especially at this time of year when we are experiencing the decline of the cycle. Like a butterfly, the moth hatches from an egg as a very hungry caterpillar, gorges herself, then spins a silken cocoon. In the stillness of the cocoon, she transforms. Not into a beautiful butterfly, but into a stunning moth; ready to flaunt her dark beauty, find a mate and lay her eggs. After this she will die, but her beauty will live on in the next generation.