Surrendering to the Winds of Change
Originally published in Women's LifeStyle, September 2005

It was hanging on for dear life, afraid to let go and move on to new surroundings. At least that was my perception of this withered, brown maple leaf, the sole survivor of a blustery winter along the lakeshore. The tree was completely bare, all its previous tenants having moved on to better terrain, except for this one anxious resident. Just watching it twist and turn with the wind, made me grin at its tenacity to not let go.

I think that is what I love most about fall—watching the leaves as they determine how long they'll cling. I find myself attributing human qualities to them and ponder what their current condition of acceptance or angst is, what their level of fear or courage might be as they are asked by Mother Nature to move on to the next stage of their lives. It may sound silly, but I find great inspiration for my life journey by watching the leaves.

Leaves, I contend, are a lot like people. We come into the world inexperienced and green. We grow into our fullness by being buffeted about by the gusts of life. We depart when the time is right and we've learned all we needed to learn. I refer not only to the human life cycle, from birth to death, but a series of small deaths and rebirths each of us is asked to experience again and again, as life's twists and turns come our way. Watching the leaves reminds me that we are continually being asked to flow with the rhythm of life, to let go and move on. We are called to change, to relinquish what we know as sure and safe to experience the unknown future. Most leaves seem to do this quite easily. It is just part of being a leaf. It is also part of being a human being, but most of us don't "go with the flow" as the leaves do, trusting we are being taken to the next best place in our lives. Most of us act like this little survivor leaf I'm watching through my living room window today—we hang on with all our might and refuse to surrender to the winds of change.

Why? Because change is uncomfortable. Change is risky. And, if we are honest, we just plain don't like it. It's much more desirable to stay the same. Interesting notion though, that we seem to want others to change all the time. We think we can see what is best for them, what they need to let go of or move towards, and we don't hesitate to tell them so. Why can't we see such things for ourselves as easily as we do for others? It may be because our vision for others is clear, not so tied up with emotion. Our vision for ourselves is murky, because it is clouded over with fear. And fear is the greatest obstacle to change.

In her recent book, You Have the Power: Choosing Courage in a Culture of Fear, activist Frances Moore Lappé explains the incredible role fear plays in our lives. It stops us before we ever get started. It paralyzes us. It keeps us small. Buying into fear, she maintains, along with co-author Jeffrey Perkins, is what we are doing in our society, more and more each day. The news abounds with stories that make us paranoid about other people and our world. We are consumed with thoughts of what could happen and what danger is lurking just around the corner. We live in not only worry, but immersed in a sense of lack—there is not enough, so we must do all we can to hang on to what we have. Our fear keeps us from our true happiness, peace of mind and living our greatest potential.

Frances and Jeffrey invite us to reframe our notion of fear. "We ask you to entertain the surprising notion that fear—that oldest of bogeymen—may be a precious resource we can use to create the lives we want and the world we want." They encourage us to consider that fear does not mean stop; fear can mean go. ¹

In other words, when we feel fearful, notice that this particular specter has come to call, and reconstruct your thinking about it. Its presence may be telling you something positive. It could be saying, 'Get ready, you are in for a great adventure. A new life awaits you.' A gut wrenching experience of fear may not mean backing away at all; it could mean moving forward into the unknown to be all that you can be. Choose to move toward your fear and you will discover not only your personal treasure trove of courage, but a cache of new experiences to savor and build a meaningful life with.

Which brings us back to the leaves...I imagine that when a leaf receives the call from Mother Nature that it's time to let go, it ponders a bit, but it does not become paralyzed in fear. It might ask: Do I let go now or later? Do I let go with ease and flow with the winds of change that are coming? Where will I go and what will I become? Within its beautiful life cycle, each leaf will be reborn into a new version of itself. Some will become a forest floor, some will provide fodder for birds' nests, some will become compost for a garden. Each outcome is laden with its own profound purpose. The leaf does not die; it simply changes form. And somehow it knows this, except, perhaps that one small maple leaf who did not want to let go. Maybe it had no faith...

As fall beckons and the leaves in your neck of the woods come ablaze with color, observe the well-timed beauty of their letting go, and think about yours. As they submit to the winds of change, knowing not where they will land, witness the trust they show in surrendering to their ultimate destiny, and ponder yours. May the leaves, and the dignity with which they embrace transformation, provide a model of courage to emulate as life calls you to change, wherever that may lead.

¹ Lappé, Frances Moore and Perkins, Jeffrey. You Have the Power: Choosing Courage in a Culture of Fear. Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin, New York, 2004.