Visit the Abbey of the Arts online retreat platform to access your programs:

Autumn’s Call

Today is the Autumn Equinox and we enter my favorite half of the year.  These days have been marked by a heaviness here at the Abbey though.  My mother-in-law who has Alzheimer’s has been declining rapidly as of late.  And in the last couple of weeks our sweet old dog Tune has developed canine cognitive dysfunction, which essentially leads to increased confusion, anxiety, and distress, similar to Alzheimer’s in humans.  She is on medication now which is helping, but still the signs are there.  The anniversary of my own mother’s death is less than a month away.  As fall begins its brilliant journey I am being thrust into the messiness of life.

Autumn holds me to this path, it calls me to honor the full spectrum of human experience, to not push away the sorrow and grief, to not fill the waiting with distractions.  I rest into the unknown, the not-yet knowing when an end will come for my beautiful mother-in-law, or when we will be called upon to bring an end for Tune’s suffering. 

While the contemplative life cultivates peace, it also means being affected by the deep grief of living and loving.  It means allowing my heart to break again and again.  Being a monk in the world means I show up fully for whatever life brings me.  I make space to feel all of its contours.  I embrace the fullness of my very human life.  And in my capacity to do this for myself, I can be present to others in their suffering as well.

Autumn offers solace with her unbearable beauty.  But some days, the wind gusts through and the trees are stripped bare.  I weep at the ache I feel when I consider how everything I love in this world will one day die. The season calls me to let go of false assumptions, wrests my too-small images of God from me as I enter the Mystery of dying and rising.  Autumn demands that I release what I think is important to do and return to the only thing which matters that I remember – to love and to allow love to sculpt me, even as it breaks my heart.

You might also enjoy

Summer Solstice Blessing

Summer Solstice Blessing*Radiant One,creator of the cosmosand the luminaries which light our way,bless this day of longest lightand the gift of the sunto bring warmth to our livesand abundance of growth,sweetness of blueberries,refreshment of lemons,nourishment of kaleand a thousand other kinds of food.We sing in

Read More »

Monk in the World Guest Post: Sharon Clymer Landis

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to our Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Sharon Clymer Landis’s reflection on the wisdom and love of a foster dog. I’m fostering a dog named Ladybug. She was caught

Read More »

13 Responses

  1. Thank you so much for your gift of words and images, Christine. Your reflections on mortality and the harsh/beautiful messages of autumn strike right to the heart of it for me. Thank you for shaping this truth into language. Blessings on you and your family…

  2. Thank you so much for this. . . the photos are absolutely gorgeous! And I can identify with so much of what you write, with an aging father who seems to be fading more each month, with having lost my 16 year old cat to a merciful death a month ago, with many other losses having recently affected those I love, and ongoing serious illness being lived with by others I love. .. it is truly a season of loss and letting go. I especially appreciate your last two paragraphs, and this sentence: “Autumn demands that I release what I think is important to do and return to the only thing which matters that I remember – to love and to allow love to sculpt me, even as it breaks my heart.” Yes, yes, love is what matters most. .. .

  3. Christine…I have just seen your beautiful art/photography. A true mosaic of sentiment, reflective of this paradoxical season of autumn which offers us all profound beauty on the threshold of winter’s austerity. My writings are meant to focus on different perspectives on life (and its lessons), written from my 65-year-old perspective. Please visit me at web address. I am a novice having only begun this past July…I enjoy your work.