Author: Bev

My husband and I have oft said, “well, today I guess we’ll have to make our own fun.” Not every day is fun-filled and I think as the self-employed, we have learned that if it doesn’t come our way, we sometimes have to make it happen.

We all have emotionally dreary days, nothing exciting comes in the mail, and no one seems to be out there, and if they are, they haven’t phoned in any interest in what we’re up to. Atmospherically, there are more dark days over the winter holidays than there is light. Sometimes, me thinks we need to “make our own light.”

“I am the light of the world,” said Jesus. Even better, he told his followers, “you are the light of the world.” So, this time of year especially, we’d better get about the business of making some light.

Everybody loves to see the holiday lights come up on residences, businesses, town streets, and special displays. Lights truly dispel the darkness and give us good cheer. I think it was St. Francis of Assisi who said, “all the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.”

The “winter blues” sets in about now. To their extreme, winter blues can become a depressive disorder known as SAD or Seasonal Affective Disorder. Triggered by less sunlight, this seasonal disorder is a real type of depression.

Light therapy can help with SAD symptoms. I know this is serious and this kind of light therapy involves daily therapy with a special light box. However, I wonder on the milder side of the official disorder, if holiday lights might provide the pick-me-up that many more people need, compared to the few with SAD depression.

I’ve read the odd article which has stipulated that some professional designers believe holiday lights indoors, all year long is a faux pas. Who cares. If you care, go ahead and pull down the clear lights which line your fireplace, mantle, and decorate your big plants. But as for me and my household, we’re keeping them up for dark evenings and rainy days, all year long.

Remember the children’s song many of us sang in school or Bible school, “This Little Light of Mine?” Let it shine, folks.

Did you know that there is a literal biological light which emanates from human beings – too faint to see with the eye, but it is extinguished upon death. Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount, recorded in Matthew, that we should let our light so shine that we reflect His Spirit within us. What are we routinely reflecting?

My personal belief is that even when we are having a bad day; even if we’re temporarily in a bad mood; even when we feel like we’ll never be happy again, that base core of light within us, still shines. If we follow St. Francis’ wisdom, we must conclude that even when all seems dark, dismal, and hopeless, that glow of biological light, or the measure of spiritual light that dwells within us, will dispel the darkness. Let your light shine.

Have you ever found yourself keeping appointments, running errands, going to work, or doing whatever you need to out in the marketplace, when inside, you’re barely functioning? I’m not talking about moving about without your mandatory cup(s) of coffee. I’m referring to something really hard is going on and you still have to take care of the kids, earn a living, put food on the table or take care of any number of chores that won’t go away.

However, even with that all going on inside your head, you still manage to smile to a stranger waiting in line with you. You still hold the door open for the next person entering the building. Your response to the wait-person or cashier is still courteous, not your usual exuberance, but kind, nonetheless.

How do you think you managed that? I think it’s “this little light of mine.”

I challenge you this season, to take some moments to really absorb the light shining around you. Appreciate that your neighbors, friends, strangers, communities, and organizations have displayed lights, sharing with all of us their light.

Take it all in and let it reflect off of you and bounce back to another human being. Pass on the light, so to speak.

Are you judgmental? Do you pass down judgments like you’re a judicial official in a court of law?

Who am I, to judge others? I’m just one of y’all. You’re just one of us.

I recently read an uplifting article about Brad Paisley, the country music star, and his wife, Kimberly Williams, the actress. They wanted to instill in their children of privilege, the best attitude toward those not born into wealth.

They started a grocery store, then another, in Tennessee, resembling one they toured in California, for folks who need a little help and support with groceries and other stuff found in a supermarket. People get to keep their dignity and shop, selecting their own groceries just like any other market, and the purchase price is mercy.

The article pointed out that eligibility to shop in The Store, requires referral from social or governmental programs, and lasts one year. The Store is intended to lift folks back onto their feet after they’ve fallen on hard times for whatever reason.

When I read this, the first thing I thought was, what a wonderful idea and it warmed my heart. Then, secondly all the judgment thoughts began to raise their ugly heads.

Just who deserves this kind of help? Do I? Does my neighbor? How about this friend and that acquaintance? Do you have to be a certain age, have a certain skin color, or tax bracket?

What defines hard times? Do you have to be an addict, homeless, a senior, or single parent?

What is temporary? A week, a month, a quarter, or a year?

What if you’re working but all of a sudden, it’s just not enough? What if the bottom falls out of the pay check to pay check path and you can’t wait until the next pay check?

Didn’t you save anything for a rainy day? Maybe you had so many rainy days that, mirroring a flash flood, your savings were drained, dry. Maybe the unexpected became the norm and there’s nothing left to spread any thinner.

What if your umbrella turned inside out and your safety net became tangled around your hands and feet? Do you deserve help and support now?

Exactly when does a person deserve compassion? What does it look like to deserve something? Do you have to look sad, poor, dirty, or needy? Is that human dignity, the kind you and I deserve?

We’ve probably all observed somebody or maybe even whole generations of families who have taken advantage of and worked “the system” of U.S. Government benefits for those living through hard times. But, should the few who abuse the umbrella system unfairly, spoil the help for those who humbly need a little help from a friendly face or place? Think about it.

If there is a time of year or season for giving, this is it. It’s Christmas time and we’re generally in a giving mood, if we can, how we can. The Wise Men or Magi came from afar to bring gifts to the Christ Child. The Shepherd Boy brought gifts, as did the Little Drummer Boy. This is not to mention, the whole culture of Santa, elves and reindeer, the entire North Pole and Mrs. Claus, doing their part to give, give, and give some more. We mimic such giving at Christmas.

Who deserves gifts? Do you have to behave yourself to deserve a gift or do you get a lump of coal?

Are you giving “out of the goodness of your heart,” or out of obligation? Do you give because the recipient deserves it, by meeting certain conditions?

If you deserve something supposedly you merit it, earned it, worked for it, or did something to justly receive this reward or punishment. You get what you put in. Thusly, you get the nice gift, or lump of rock in your stocking.

You have a right to expect to receive something you earned; you deserve it. If you worked you should expect to be paid, If you did something measurably wrong, you should expect consequences. This is classic, scientific, cause and effect.

What if you don’t deserve it but get it anyway, the gift or lump? How fair is that?

Well, this is getting into the real meaning of Christmas. If you’re in a gift-giving mood, it’s this real meaning of Christmas in play.

None of us works enough, gives enough, or loves enough, to deserve what we receive at Christmas. We don’t deserve grace and mercy.

Grace is unmerited favor. It’s a free gift that we don’t deserve and didn’t earn, and we maybe even deserve the opposite, but mercy kicked in.

The biblical book of Luke outlines the birth of Christ and also says, “give and you shall receive.” So, maybe we should practice giving with grace this season and just do the first part of the Luke scripture: “give” and let God deal with the fulfillment of the second half of the sentence.

How many ways can we say “thank you,” “I’m thankful,” or “Happy Thanksgiving?” There are over 7100 living languages on earth, so there’s that. Then, there is a plethora of ways to say we’re thankful, grateful, and  how to develop a spirit of gratitude.

I did a little something retro to address the whole concept of gratitude. I consulted a book in print, my “Dictionary of Word Origins,” a much beloved reference book from 1990.

This little bit of research somehow begged for old-school technique rather than a Google search. I enjoy the instant, mostly AI answers from Google as a jumping off point. However, I wanted to see the real deal in this instance.

Speaking of the real deal, I have to share a side-bar comment coming from my two-year-old grandson. He has taken to rejecting his oft sought after favorite snack, a cheese stick, and asking for “real cheese,” instead. His mom and dad have been baffled as to what differentiates “real cheese” in this little one’s mind. Wondering where it came from, his mama asked if we, his grandparents, started the phrase, and trend.

I first denied it. However, I began to wonder if in some passing comment from me to hubby, while I was trapped in play mode and he was free to bring the snack, I said, “just cut up some real cheese,” for example, from a block vs. a cheese stick. And the sharp cookie I was playing with, picked up the “real cheese” moniker, and now won’t have it any other way.

I’ve taken to cutting up all our former cheese sticks on hand, into little cubes. These “real cheese” cubes are received with delight by said, two-year-old.

So, back to the real deal of word origins. Many of our English language words are derived from either Latin or Old French. I personally think it’s cool that we English language speakers can often recognize Latin word origins because of the similarity to English in the word’s structure.

“Thanksgiving” in French is “Action de grace.” As English language speakers with sixty percent of our words coming from Latin and many of the rest derived from Old French, we can suss out that this French phrase translates as an action of grace. And, guess what some cousins of “grace” are? Grateful, gratitude, congratulate, gratuity, gratis, and other similar sounding words related to thankfulness, thanksgiving, or pleasing.

Shall we break this down? When we see that someone has accomplished something for which we are pleased, maybe exceedingly pleased to hear about, we congratulate them.

A gratuity is colloquially known as a tip. We add money to the restaurant, salon, hotel, or taxi bill to show that we are pleased with the service we just received. Originally, we offered a gratuity because we were thankful for exceptional service. In today’s woke world, when gratuities are added without our consent in some establishments, or forced upon us as a “guilt-offering” so as not to be deemed a Grinch, I don’t know.

Some of us “older” folks still remember giving a tip or gratuity because we’re thankful for good service. We’ve presumably had our share of poor service, bad service, or barely any “service” at all and learned to adjust our gratuity accordingly. We don’t really understand being told how much to tip folks in the “service” industry.

My husband and I have been in business for over thirty years and we have become accustomed to including a product in many retail mail-orders, for free. This free product has been known as a “gratis,” as my husband spoke a little Belgian French in his formative years living in the Belgian Congo and impressing the Belgian girls necessitating his speaking their language.

Latin gratus, and French gratis, in this personal example, is a gesture of thankfulness for the order, thus we give a little something back. That’s how we do business. The idea is that generosity should not be transactional but that generosity might be reaped, having given out of a truly generous spirit.

Here’s some musical trivia for you, a “grace note” in a musical composition is added for its flair and beauty, it’s not essential to the composition, it’s there just for the pleasure of it. The words, grace and gratifying are two of the “gratitude” cousins.

Grace is something extra. It’s a thing of beauty and not a given that we all have grace. It’s an elegant, pleasing, embellishment or ornament. Just like a necklace or scarf adds elegance to an outfit, there’s a certain kind of flair to people of grace.

If you’re a gracious person, you stand out as pleasantly kind, courteous, and others are put at ease when around you. You may also be held in some esteem for the benevolence you offer to others, derived from the thankfulness you feel for the favor you’ve received.

Derived from “gratia,” grace and gratification mean, pleasure, favor, and thanks. We’ve often heard it said that certain people have grace to cope with certain situations in which they find themselves. They have a sort of supernatural favor to live through a situation for which most of us could not equally cope.

If we feel pleasure having received an honor or compliment, endured through a difficult task, or completed some such thing that we doubted we could, that’s gratification. We’re usually compelled to say thank you for grace, received.

Let me conclude with this personal anecdote. Probably a dozen years ago, a passerby stopped and asked if I had a home, thinking I was a homeless bag-woman, while I was picking up litter along a secondary road which I frequently walked. Not knowing that my ultimate dream as an adult has been to be thought of as elegant. He surely thought of me as many things, charming not being one of them.

Dear God, give me grace. Thank you in advance. I pray that you all have a very “Joyeux le jour de l’action de grace(s).” Happy Thanksgiving.

This column is unusual in that it is not one cohesive thought or concept, but many seeds for thought.  Included in the collection are several column ideas that I just didn’t feel the need to elaborate upon; other snippets are quotes that I felt worthy of recording for future food for thought.  Hopefully you will find something inspiring about this collection of potential.

“The cake is done and that project I’ve been working on is finally finished.”  Back in the day, grammarians used to be sticklers that “food is done, people are finished,” and do not confuse the two.  I am now officially through with this topic.  You may speak about the doneness of cake and the completion of tasks; in any way you see fit.  I’m okay with it either way.

I’ve heard the word “tyranny” used in a couple of rather poignant phrases, describing the oppressive use of power in an unusual way.  The first phrase I recall was highlighted by a television preacher in the 1980s, “tyranny of the urgent.”  Oh, my goodness sake, if anything is any more oppressive, pressing, or stressful than someone else’s urgency, where they’re urging you to do something on their timetable, I don’t know what it is.  Then, lately I’ve heard of an interesting concept labeled, “tyranny of the fringe.”  This is presumably oppression from an outside group, exercising power over the in group.  I don’t know how this works, but it’s real.

How about this idea of “Breaking News?”  It used to be that breaking news was some important new information about a vital issue that may impact your life in some way.  Now, breaking news is an attention seeking bit of fluff.  It’s just a headline used by advertisers or clickbait to grab your attention.

“I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”  This is the oath, sworn by witnesses in a court of law.  But nowadays, your truth, my truth, and THE truth are all different truths.  In fact, it was truthfully said on a Norwegian crime drama that I watched, “The truth with a capital T is dead… public life is now just a form of theater where anything can be true if you say it loud enough.”

Vladimir Lenin, the first head of the Soviet Union (USSR), said, “There are decades where nothing happens, and there are weeks where decades happen.”  Ain’t that the truth?

In The Tempest, William Shakespeare, considered by many to be the greatest writer in the English language, said “What’s past is prologue.”  Our future is in part shaped by the choices we made in the past.  The stage has been set, but what are we going to do with it?

“Discovery isn’t seeking new lands, but seeing with new eyes,” so said French novelist and essayist, Marcel Proust.  It seems that “seeing” isn’t done just with the eyes, but also with the mind.  When you read a book, watch a movie, walk in nature, you can discover worlds you’ve never set foot upon.  “Seeing is believing, but feeling is the truth.”  Seventeenth century English clergyman, Thomas Fuller knew that deep personal experience is more about seeing with the heart than seeing the surface with our eyes.

Oh, my gosh, are we humans ever satisfied?  There’s never enough.  More, more, more, seems to be the battle cry of most people.  In the 19^th century, social philosopher and political economist, Henry George captured it with this quote, “Man is the only animal whose desires increase as they are fed; the only animal that is never satisfied.”

So much of our emotional pain is manufactured by the “what if” of anxiety.  Shakespeare said in Macbeth, “present fears are less than horrible imaginings.”  Imagination, it seems, is both a blessing and a curse.  I guess our continual job which we cannot ever retire from is to choose where we go with our imagination, not to mention our expectations.

Isn’t it funny that after some considerable time, many of the really sticky situations we found ourselves in long ago, become comical stories we tell about ourselves at family gatherings or reunions.  I think Miles Davis, the famous jazz artist said it well, “When you hit a wrong note it’s the next note that makes it good or bad.”

Similar experiences, sitting in the same boat, and sharing those experiences, make for the closest friendships.  Seventeenth century English poet and priest, George Herbert said, “only the wearer knows where the shoe pinches.”  This means that personal experiences are just that, personal to the individual, however, an experience shared becomes more real, more powerful, not to mention purposeful.

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice,” if you wait long enough.  Martin Luther King said this, and he was a man who waited, waited, and waited some more for a smidgen of justice to manifest itself.  Michael J. Fox completes the thought with his truism that “gratitude makes optimism sustainable.”

Some fundamentalist Christian thought has encouraged followers to put our emotions down and act solely on biblical truths without the filter of emotion.  On the other hand, others, from Aristotle to modern thinkers, philosophers, theologians and more, believe that “emotions are at the center of wisdom.”  I think that pairing these two perspectives is the perfect cautionary tale.  “Self-control” is one of the biblical virtues and fruits of the Holy Spirit.  We need to develop awareness as to when our emotions begin to free-fall, and reign them in so that they work for us and not against us.

So that our actions are purposeful and not reactive, we all would be wise to “practice the pause.”  This concept is widely associated with mindfulness or thinking before doing it.  I was tickled with my two-year-old grandson when he mimicked me and began saying, “pause it,” when it’s become time to pause all video learning to begin applying what we’ve learned, through play.  In this writing, I deem it is time to “Selah” or pause and think about it.

 

 

 

 

 

Talk, talk, communicate, confess.  It’s therapy I’m talking about.

In her twenties, actress Diane Keaton recently deceased, suffered from bulimia, an eating disorder of binging and purging.  She said that she recovered from the disorder after having sought therapy.

Woody Allen, her partner at one time, encouraged Keaton to seek therapy.  So, she did and, in her 2011 memoir, Then Again, Keaton claimed that she slowly replaced the purging of food with purging her anxieties by talking.

Like Woody Allen, I think everyone needs talk therapy.  We’ve all got issues that get purged one way or another.  Therapy seems ideal when compared to the alternative destructive outlets for the bad stuff we accumulate over time and bury deep within.  We take it out on someone or something in some way.

I confess I’ve never been in therapy officially, but I have engaged in an excellent and similar alternative.  One might call it “talk vomit.”  I talk, talk, confess and communicate daily with my husband, who listens – the hallmark of a good therapist.

Having been trained in psychology, sociology and anthropology, I know some things about the mental and emotional health of all kinds of people.  That doesn’t make me mentally healthier than you, it just makes me more aware of my issues, and maybe yours as well.

I can say, now that my father-in-law is long deceased, that he was involved in some covert military goings-on way back when.  And one of his primary skills developed for that purpose, was observation.  “Be aware of your surroundings,” he used to say.

Since both of us trained in observation, we connected with a secret mental handshake, if you will.  It’s a communication of sorts, observation.

This is what therapy does, it trains our minds to observe, thereby gaining extraordinary insights about people, places, things, and our own life’s modus operandi.  Why do we do, say, and behave the way we do?

You can also gain considerable insight from the stories of others.  For this reason, my favorite genre of literature is memoir or biography.

You may do well by accumulating some examples of what some folks have learned, who have already walked the path you seem to be headed down.  Once you know why you are the way you are, then you can proceed to “how do I live my best life with what I’ve got?”

In addition to certified therapists, there are a variety of confessors out there, from professional to amateur.  Notwithstanding family and friends, we can confess and talk things out with priests and pastors, bartenders and barbers, doctors and hairdressers.

You are never too old, too young, too poor, too smart, too dense, or too far gone to start talk therapy.  Even if it’s just between you and God, in the woods or in a chapel, talk it out.  It’s the better alternative.

A saying went around Facebook, encouraging people to “stop blaming your past for how you turned out, it’s time to grow up and take responsibility for how you live as an adult.”  Yes, our past has significantly contributed to who we have become.  But part of “adulting” is to move on and become the best that you can be and stop blaming everybody and his brother for your current lifestyle.

Accept that these are YOUR choices now.  If you want a different outcome in the future, change your choices.  Only you have the power to change your life, unless you want to give God some credit.  Taken out of context, but nonetheless, Jesus said, “heal thyself.”

The saying, “you can’t pour from an empty cup,” refers to the simple fact that we can’t help others, support others, even dwell with others while living in a wounded soul.  First, we have to get whole, then we can share our wholeness with others.

It seems to me that if some talk, talk, and more talk will help one to clear out some of the clutter, don’t wait for Spring for a good clean-out.  Do it now.

 

 

 

After twenty-two years, the most famous dictionary publisher, Merriam-Webster, is updating their print version of the “Collegiate Dictionary.”  This is exciting news for most writers; some yummy new words for us to devour.

I admit that I have succumbed to the modern age where most of my dictionary work is conducted online or on the dictionary app on my phone.  But I miss the days of sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by reference books, dictionaries, and notebooks.  In fact, I miss sitting on the floor like that, in general since I’m coming upon my seventieth birthday, if you know what I mean.

Are you aware that every state in the U.S., Washington D.C., and our territories, have a State Library and archive?   I used to thrive spending time in the Kentucky State Library researching and combing through documents, all spread out on a big conference table in the middle of the “stacks.”  I was preparing preliminary documents for my master’s thesis.

A lexophile in the making, I think I’ve always loved words, especially their origins.  Lexophile, for example, where in the world did that word come from?  Meaning, lover of words, lexophile comes somewhat obviously from two Greek roots: lexis meaning words or speech, and philos meaning loving.

Circa 1993 or so and given the opportunity to critique my teaching at the end of the semester, one college student said, “she uses too many big words.”  Since I love words, what do you think I thought about that criticism?  If I recall accurately after these many years, my thought was, “this is college, get a dictionary.”

Where is the curiosity?  Where is the desire to know more?  Where is the work ethic?

You know, there are people who read the dictionary?  Kostas, the title character in a television show I watched, written in Italian about a Greek detective, with English subtitles, reads the dictionary when he comes home to decompress after work.  Malcolm X, while in prison, was said to have copied entries from the dictionary to teach himself to read and write.

I beg to differ with the nineteenth century children’s rhyme, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”   As it turns out, the relevance of some age-old sayings expires.  This may have been the wisdom in 1862, but in 2025 our wisdom has evolved to stipulate that emotional wounds can last longer than physical ones.

Twentieth century American author, Jessamyn West expressed the contemporary wisdom in her twist of the old rhyme.  “A broken bone can heal, but the wound a word opens can fester forever.”  I’d say “Amen” to that, but that word means “so be it.”

It’s my opinion that we have far too many walking emotional wounds in our midst because of words and their associative actions.  Bullies have inflicted their best on too many people.

Some of the words that we use around children are despicable.  Doesn’t everybody know that children are sponges?  They absorb every word that is uttered in their vicinity.  Do some people really intend to damage a person for life by calling a child disparaging names or using an overabundance of four-letter gutter words?  That’s bullying, pure and simple.

In teaching young children to communicate, a hallmark of civilization and functional mental health, we ask them to “use your words.”   I’m using license to quote Mark Twain in this context, by pointing out that there is a “difference between the almost right word and the right word… ‘tis the difference between the lightning-bug and the lightning.”

Choose the right words!  Every time we open our mouths around children, we’re giving them a gift.  Is your gift a gag gift?  Is it a gift of a lifetime?  Is it a gift they must reach for?  Or are you handing them an empty box decorated like a gift?

Do you know that print dictionaries are now considered gift books, in part?  What a gift it would be.  Maybe we could create a new generation of meditative dictionary readers.

People have been known to “finger drop” onto a dictionary page, or Bible page, to see what pops up.  They let their minds wander a bit and ponder something of the unknown.

William King, trumpet player for the 1968 American funk and soul group, the Commodores, named the band with a dictionary finger drop.  He said in 1978, “We lucked out, we almost became The Commodes.”

Want to have some fun with words?  Try a finger drop on a random dictionary page and let your mind wander.

 

 

September 22, 2025, was the autumnal equinox, or the beginning of fall in the Northern Hemisphere.  The equinox is said to demonstrate balance between day and night, each lasting about an equal portion of our twenty-four-hour clock on that date.

I wonder if most of us Libra’s, born between September 23^rd and October 22^nd, lovers of balance and harmony, also have an affinity with the fall season.  On balance, I think so.

The usual complaint those of us who treasure Autumn, otherwise and affectionately known as “sweater weather,” “jacket weather,” or fall, is that it’s too fleeting.  We would of course prefer that fall took up half the year and spring, the other half.  “Temperate,” is what they call it, I think.  Balanced.

Winter and summer are big seasons.  These seasons are unmistakably in your face.  Winter is harsh and summer is intense.

Autumn and spring are gentler, easier.  Unencumbered comes to mind when I think of autumn and spring.

That winter coat, gloves, scarf and such make me feel a bit like a turtle walking around having to carry my shell, always carrying something.  And in the summer the ever-present blanket of claustrophobic humidity sitting heavily on my skin, comes close to suffocating.

Thanks to American poet and naturalist, Henry David Thoreau, we have been coached to perceive autumn as evening, sunset, and the close of fruitfulness.  It reminds me of what some have referred to as “Sunday night melancholy.”  Fun and games have ceased, and seriousness, responsibility and stress commence on Monday morning, oh my.

But Thoreau saw the “painted leaves” of autumn as one of the most beautiful happenings of the calendar.  Paradoxically, he thought Autumn light signals the culmination of life, fulfillment, satisfaction, even leaving what has been behind.

As to leaving, my two-year-old grandson would just rather not.  He doesn’t like leaving anywhere he has been.  And since he is, well, two, and he doesn’t yet know how to regulate his emotions, he gets distressed when leaving anywhere every time.

It’s possible that with all the “leaving” involved in Autumn, and the darkening of our days, some folks don’t like the fall.  Like my grandson, they get distressed, maybe even grieve the passing of time, in the Autumn.

A prevalent part of the cycle of life and death, exemplified in leaves, is growth, development, peak, maturity, becoming a colorful spectacle, leaving, falling, blanketing the earth, crunchiness, the smelliness of decay, turning brown, and death.  The whole tree, on the other hand, its roots, trunks, and branches rest, regenerate and then it starts all over again; the cycle of life, that is.

Trees are apostles of sorts.  They dispatch their leaves so that the tree can live.  The biological term for falling leaves, is apoptosis, a close relative of another Greek word, apostle.

In the west, schools start in the fall, and kids leave the nest.  Leaving is part of the cycle of life.  Why does it make us sort of sad?

Life goes on.  It is what it is.  Or, as Michael J. Fox said, “acceptance is not resignation but a form of understanding.”  I’m thinking that there is no beginning without first a leaving.

What do you think?  Fox continued to say, “happiness grows in proportion to one’s acceptance and inversely to one’s expectations.”  That’s kind of poignant.

There is a natural turnover to life and death.  Ten percent of our bone mass is renewed every year, every year.

Our cells are continually dying and new ones taking their place, in a delicate balancing act.  It’s no joke how wondrously we are made; each of us a gymnast traversing a shockingly narrow balance beam between life and death.

According to Thoreau, Autumn is the year’s “last, loveliest smile,” with notable changes in the atmosphere reflecting the year’s events. The falling leaves symbolize life’s harmonious journey from life to dust and tutor us in the art of letting go and renewal.