Across the Border

"I have searched frantically for contentment for so many years in so many ways, and all these acquisitions and accomplishments—they run you down in the end. Life, if you keep chasing it so hard, will drive you to death. Time when pursued like a bandit—will behave like one; always remaining one country or one room ahead of you , changing its name and hair color to elude you, slipping out the back door of the motel just as you're banging through the lobby with your newest search warrant, leaving only a burning cigarette in the ashtray to taunt you. At some point you have to stop because it won't. You have to admit that you can't catch it. That you're not supposed to catch it. At some point, … you gotta let go and sit still and allow contentment to come to you." Elizabeth Gilbert

I recently celebrated my sixtieth birthday and officially joined the growing ranks of those who have crossed over the border of 'middle age' into the nameless prevailing limbo of 'sorta old but not completely old yet'. Thinking about all that brings a smile as well as some reflection. Certainly my perspective has shifted. I don't feel old; but I do remember being 30 and thinking that the people I knew that were my age now definitely were old. Now what I hear most often is the feeling time is no longer a luxury. Whatever illusion we may have had about having enough of it, or controlling it, can no longer be sustained. The phrase 'if not now, then when?' becomes a meaningful slogan for obvious reasons.

Here at the lake on the eve of the Fall Equinox, preparations for winter have created a surge of activity. Hawk training 101 has reached a fever pitch. The woods are full of scavenging birds intent on stoking themselves for the imminent start of migration. Acorns and leaves have begun their descent to the ground and the squirrels can be seen carrying fresh leaves to their treetop nests. Living accelerates as the real world begins to slow down for winter. In comparison, modern life has learned to manipulate and control our environment in ways that have moved us away from the inherent timetable of the real world. We live constellated to another timing wound by an ever increasing talent to produce, which runs faster and faster, urging us to produce and seek even more and carrying us farther and farther from an understanding of our place in the order of things. And while we may feel powerful, especially in our youth, something in us can remain insatiate, often to the point of starving. We can arrive in the Fall of life and wonder what was it all for? We are not only tired but still hungry. What happens now?

As a new initiate I am learning as have so many who have gone before, there is something wonderful waiting across the border. Life is always recreating itself. It really isn't ever over. The ancient rhythms still go on bringing a change in perspective to replace the sense of elusive timing. The pursuing, hunting, getting part of living begins to relinquish its gnawing grasp and the manmade clock stops. We get back the chance to regulate our lives again by the original timepiece of our own hearts. Once past the border of middle age, in preparation for the winter of our lives, awareness arrives that what we have done however spectacular it may have been, is over, but who we are now, is what remains. That is our harvest. And, to our surprise, we might finally understand more than ever before, that now is the time to savor and share it to our heart's content.