To Anyone Who's Afraid of Losing Something

I drove for an hour to a friend's house last Friday and noticed a yellowing tree. One, among a stretch of green over the course of an hour. 

This afternoon as I stood in the woods I could hear the thud of acorns falling against the ground, and I wondered when I first began to resist the changing of things…

Was it as a small child? After the first time being told no and having to end the game or leave the function?

Or did I slowly begin to resist the passing of things as I grew older and came to realize that my days were numbered.

I have noticed that the skin under my fathers chin falls slightly lower than it did the year before. 

I have noticed my mother holds up things to read further and further away from her face.

And suddenly the yellowing of a tree in August is rather unsettling. 

Have you heard of a living death? 

It is described as the stripping away of all things that you identify as what makes you yourself. 

It is the cutting off of the bits and pieces that you hope or hate make the people around you stop and say things like, “oh, that’s so you.” 

A career 

A style

A hobby

I am beginning to feel like perhaps, the only way to be okay with the consistency of change is by doing away with all the building. 

Yourself - 

That is….

Perhaps instead of envisioning the person we want to be and slowly placing blocks on top of one another, we should be admiring the current block in our hands for exactly where it stands. 

Perhaps - if I simply looked at yellow trees for being yellow instead of for being in a sea of green, I wouldn’t be so worried about autumn, and everything after. 

But “just let go” is a cruel and overused sentiment. 

And I’m trying to learn the difference between remembering to stop gripping to cliffs when my feet are only 2 inches above ground, versus safely slipping away into the water.