Old beliefs flare up,
fade,
and fall away before me like
autumn leaves,
collecting, drying, shriveling up
and dying.
A necessary part
of life,
of growth,
of change,
and yet,
the tree remains.
It’s only in looking back that I realize, for most of my life I clung onto certainty like a life raft. If I studied, acquired knowledge, had all my intellectual and theological and philosophical ducks in a row, everything would be okay. I’d be protected, I’d be able to withstand anything. Until, well, life happened and it didn’t work out that way. Life has a funny way of doing that.
Since then I’ve learned to embrace letting go, holding loosely, saying “I don’t know” to a lot of things. It took a kind of death for that to happen, but I’ve come to realize it’s all a part of the life cycle of growth.