Figs In Season



My grandson Elijah

Falling Forward… Reflections on Our Fragility, Our Humanity, and Our Poetry

We hold the world, and everything in it, in our creative palms. We set and unset the limits of our universe to our advantage… or to our chagrin.


Our Fragility

 I am fragile.
My fragility reveals itself
As my hardness…
My hardness masquerades as strength.
I can become strong…
When I am honest about my vulnerabilities.

Autumn comes. It arrives right after that season of vibrancy. It is the sometimes anticlimactic moment that interrupts the flaunting of our fecund ways. The season of fruitfulness that highlights our ability to reproduce our essential selves wanes, and we begin to shed our attractive regalia as we prepare for that necessary season of reflective dormancy.

In place of the boastful presentations of our potency, we find ourselves settling into that quintessential deciduous Now that exposes our many vulnerabilities. As the Fall approaches we involuntarily give up the appearance of invincibility, and assume the humbling stance of a nakedness that reveals all our curves… flattering or unflattering…

The self-conscious flexing of our perceived strengths that came in the wake of Spring and the heat of Summer, is replaced by a necessarily reflective and restful moment. This is the season in which our existential braggadocio can be replaced by a well conceived and executed rite of recreative confession. In that exercise, the fragility that masked itself as strength in the preceding seasons, gives way to a true honesty that can grow us… if we are ready… and if we allow it.


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