Beautiful Down Fall
Autumn Destination
The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant woodsmoke. A soft, golden light filtered through the thinning canopy of a sprawling oak, illuminating the two figures seated on a simple stone bench beneath it.
Sophia: You seem most at peace here, George. More so than in the full blush of summer or the hopeful green of spring.
George: Peace is part of it, Sophia. But it is a more active thing than that. It is a profound sense of belonging. In this season, my soul finds its truest counterpart. It feels… married to this decline, to this spectacular, final flourish.
Sophia: A marriage suggests a union, a destination reached. Many see the seasons as a path they must walk, a series of temporary states on the way to somewhere else. For you, this is the ‘somewhere else.’
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird, I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
— George Eliot (1818-1890)
George: Exactly! If I were not bound to one place, if I could move with the freedom of a creature of the air, my migrations would be unconventional. I wouldn't flee the coming cold. I would fly towards the world's next offering of this exact moment. I would chart a course from hemisphere to hemisphere, forever in pursuit of the next glorious arrival of fall.
Sophia: You describe a perpetual pilgrimage. What is the sacred thing you seek in this constant arrival? Is it the colour? The crispness in the air?
George: It is the feeling they create together. It is a sensory feast, a richness that speaks of a full life. It’s the beauty of maturity, the grace in letting go. Summer is all energetic becoming, and winter is a stark stillness. But this… this is the poetry of existence itself. It holds both the memory of warmth and the promise of quiet rest. It is life at its most poignant and beautiful, precisely because it understands its own impermanence.
Sophia: Then the destination you seek is not a place on a map, but a state of being. You wish to inhabit that perfect balance between vibrant life and serene acceptance. This season is simply its outward expression.
George: Yes. That is it entirely. The world reflects a wisdom that the soul recognizes.
A single, brilliant crimson leaf detached itself from a high branch, spiraling slowly in the still air. It landed softly at George’s feet. She looked at it, then back to the quiet, knowing eyes of her companion.
Sophia: You see? You do not need to fly around the earth to find it. If you wait with an open heart, the destination always comes to you.
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