escaping comets, falling leaves, you and me

Come on fall. Help me learn to let go of what’s dead. Come on fall. I’m ready.

It’s the second of September and I’m mad that the leaves haven’t started falling yet.

For the past week or so I have been staring at my tree in my front yard looking for any signs of autumn creeping in - but so far, the tree is still happily wearing her green summer dress.

Come on fall. Come on fall.

Help me learn to let go of what’s dead.

Come on fall. I am ready. I am ready.

The leaves are all smirking at me from behind their sunglasses as if to say “Slow your roll, little darling.” I find their smugness of these stubborn blooms are starting to make me a little grumpy as I tap my watch and motion for them to exit the stage.

I adore watching leaves take flight during the Golden Season here in Wyoming. Our brisk winds around here have a way of carrying these newly-freed leaves in a jet stream across the sky. During Autumn, in Wyoming, leaves fly more than they do fall.

These traveling leaves remind me of escaping comets.

Come on fall. Come on fall.

Help me learn to let go of what’s dead.

Come on fall. I am ready. I am ready.

I have no patience for late summer these days. Autumn has always been my jam and I am beyond ready for it to start. I want the fireworks of orange and yellow popping everywhere I look. I am desperate for a deep inhalation of brisk September morning air. Give me slow cook meals or give me death. I cannot wait until my town is living under a haze of pumpkin spice smog.

Come on fall. Come on fall.

Help me learn to let go of what’s dead.

Come on fall. I am ready. I am ready.

This summer has been particularly hard for me. I need this summer to be behind me. It’s been a season of aching old scars and brand new wounds. Over the past few months, the powers that be have decided that my heart needed to be reminded how little armor it has on.

It’s been a long hot summer of challenges as setbacks. I have experienced both personal and professional failures that are stress-testing my confidence in the path I am on.

Come on fall. Come on fall.

Help me learn to let go of what’s dead.

Come on fall. I’m ready. I’m ready.

I am going to use this upcoming Fall as a time to start cleaning out the overfilled storage spaces in my heart. I am hoarding so many old grievances and resentments that there is no longer any place to put them anymore. I can’t walk across the living room of my heart without stubbing my toe on a box of regret or guilt.

It’s time to put it all outside for trash day. It’s time to stop holding onto to so much hurt.

Come on fall. Come on fall.

Help me learn to let go of what’s dead.

Come on fall. I am ready. I am ready.

I have been trying to cling onto to so much of my old life - the life I had before I started harvesting poetry out of my soul. I wanted there to be two of me. I wanted to have my old me and this new version of myself to live together like perfect strangers. It’s because I have been afraid of fully giving myself to the path I am on. It’s like hedging a bet. I have one foot in what is comfortable and safe (but a bit poisonous) and one foot in this new world that is calling for me to explore it.

I can’t be both my old and new self at the same time. I have to choose. I have to let go of the planet I have been orbiting. I have to explore this new universe.

I imagine you might be going through the same thing. This knowing inside of you that there is more out there for you to experience. And with that “knowing” comes a deeply rooted fear of having to let go of the dead things we have been safely clinging to.

Come on fall. Come on fall.

Help me learn to let go of what’s dead.

Come on fall. I am ready. I am ready.

It’s time for us to listen to this call to explore. It’s time for us to release our grip on what just is not working for us anymore.

The seasons of change are upon us. It’s time for us to let our hearts turn to orange and yellow as they break free from the dry branch to be caught by the wind.

It’s time for us to quit being a moon of our old ways. It’s time for us to become comets.

This morning as I struggled with the terror of finally letting go of some issues and people that have been haunting me for years I wrote this poem. It’s a call to release myself from the gravity of the old ways and to fully commit to the new adventure in front of me.

I wrote this poem to soothe my heart:

don't become a moon
to the world you just 
broke free of

orbiting our past
will keep us from
our true calling

of being a comet

when the planet
of your comfort
starts to crumble

don't turn into a satellite 
of who you aren't any more

that pulls on your 
old scars like tides

instead, my love

let your new freedom
transform you into  
a wandering fireball
 
who chases the expanse
of what is waiting for you
beyond your imagination 

Note: I also drew this clumsy sketch after I wrote the poem. It has not escaped my attention that perhaps this comet looks like a cartoon character named “Mr. Spermy” they could be featured in a terrible produced video they show boys in 7th grade during the “reproduction” unit at school.

Perhaps, though, in some ways, that’s what comets are. Maybe they are vessels that are the seeds of celestial life just ready to crash into fertile soil.

It should also be noted that I probably never got more than a C- in any science class, so my thoughts on all of this should be taken with the smallest grain of salt that you could ever find.

Regardless, if I am a leaf or a moon, it feels like it’s time for me to detach myself from what I have known as I chase this song I hear calling out to me. I can no longer resist the feeling in my bones that it’s time to trade comfort for adventure.

Just like leaves that feed the soil or the comet that will someday ignite a dead planet -I am ready to help start feeding creation.

But first I have to find the courage to actually let go.

I am ready to jump from the crunchy branch I have been holding onto for so long. I am ready to leave the orbit of the planet of my old life. I am ready to explore.

I am so ready release my grip and to take flight. Maybe I will see you out there? I hope I do. It would be great to have a traveling buddy. If I meet you out there on the howling autumn wind or at the edge of at the solar system - let’s plan on holding hands for a bit and telling each other what wonders we have seen since we both let go.

Come on fall. Come on fall.

Help me learn to let go of what’s dead.

Come on fall. I am ready. I am ready.

I am so ready.