May I Be Like the Leaves of the Maple...

Shortly as we are before the Summer Solstice, my thoughts wander to the sky, and to its leading figure this time of year, the sun. It seems to quick: that Summer Solstice if nearly upon us, as if the Spring had dawned and fled too fast.

I have become used to thinking of the seasons in accordance with the Solstices and Equinoxes, when actually it is at the midpoint between any two of these that ‘marks’ the change of seasons, and summer is half over. Nearly at its zenith, the sun will shortly be at the highest point from any position where we stand in our northern latitudes.

It is the day of the most sun: a full-on, sun celebration. Moreover, not merely the sun, but the Earth itself celebrates, for all life that is light-drawn will be reaping the full benefit of the most sun of any day’s cycle. The leaves, poised as they are to drink in light, are about to get their fullest measure. This means the moisture they draw from the soil, and the abundance with which they flourish, are also at their peak. As the sun is at its zenith with respect to the Earth, the Earth is drawn to keep pace. Hence, it is a dual celebration: the ‘highlight’ of both sun and Earth energy.

There is something festive about this. I imagine people drawn to gather with a sort of festival joy, sprawling their bodies across lawns and fields, next to pools, and flocking to rivers and lakes, soaking in the gladness of the fullness of the healing light with the balance of cool water close at hand.

Yet, what I notice is something sobering as well, which comes from knowing that from this day forward, each day will be less lit. My memory of mid-winter cold brings me to a reflective pause.

This, I think, is the reason why I feel the seasons have moved too quickly. All of my previous days this year, since winter was at its deepest, have been anticipating longer and longer feasts of sunlight. So used to this anticipation have I become, that lately, I stopped anticipating, relinquished to utter contentment by days that only have become longer. It was as if I had a larder to feast from; one that never seemed to empty, but rather grew more resplendent, a larger banquet at each meal.

Today, I find myself facing a chilling awareness that the stores will begin to empty.

No wonder that all of my plans for this year’s work are suddenly thrust to the front of my mind: the painting that needs to be done on the buildings, the gutters that need to be installed at the edge of the roof, and the shelter that needs to be hung beneath the decks, covering the flagstones that lead to the rear building that will shield those who pass through from the steady drip of winter rain.

In some ways, Summer Solstice is not so relaxed as the lounging participants at mid-summer’s fullness might suggest. There is a sharp edge to that full sun, like the glint off of a sword catching the light. All of the tasks left before me this year parade unbidden to the forefront of my ‘to-do’ list.

The harshness of winter is brought fully to mind, hidden within the sun’s utmost arc.

The Buddhists say that it is our attachment to our joy that hides the seed of loss and despair. I have become attached to the joy of the sun. The more I desire that sun, the harder it will be to let it go, and I will suffer.

The deep teaching in mid-summer’s seasonal marker is the awareness of all spokes on the wheel of life. It is not simply the sun that I celebrate this Solstice, nor the accompanying Earth who has so gamely kept pace, drinking in the sun’s life-giving light. It is the Autumn, the Winter, and the coming Spring as well.

Let me celebrate this Summer Solstice as any of the leaves of our many Maples, who today opened wide to gather the sun. May I release my hold on summer days with as much understanding – and gravity – as when in Autumn, these leaves spread their tenuous fingers to float softly to the forest floor.