Today I sat outside (briefly, because it was cold) taking in the fall scenery. I watched a golden aspen tree shimmer as the wind shook the leaves. As gusts hit it repeatedly, I saw showers of leaves break away from this tree and float away. I had the impression that if I watched long enough, I would see the wind totally disrobe this small tree, leaving it embarrassed with its naked, bare branches.
It hit me that these leaves are something like dreams. They bloom glorious and beautiful, fresh and shimmering. Then, as time goes by, they begin to yellow and age. Often they wither and die, falling away and leaving our souls bare and cold.
But just like the tree after it has gone through a winter season, our souls begin to send out tender buds of hope when it is touched by the gentle healing of spring. It is simply the nature of the soul to hope. These buds grow into new dreams, which carry us to the next winter.
Why do dreams have to die? Maybe dreams are only meant to last for a time, a season. They carry us along a certain distance, and then are no longer enough. We need new dreams to move us farther along in our journey.
No comments:
Post a Comment