Leaves

Sometimes beauty can be found in the smallest, most indescribable moments. I’m going to attempt to describe one of those moments now. A couple days ago I sat outside on campus, enjoying the rare warmth we were having that day. As I soaked in some rays while reading a good book, I took a minute to marinate in that moment. I looked around. There were trees overhead, and the slight breeze was sending a steady stream of leaves towards the ground. Golden rain poured down, matching the magical near-sunset light flowing out of the horizon.

I felt as poetic as I’ve ever felt in that instant. Surely if I had any poetic pluck, I would have whipped out my pen and started writing my own Odyssey or Wasteland. Instead I selfishly sucked in the aesthetic pleasure of it all. I began to ponder.

Why don’t we cry at the fall of a leaf? I mean, there is probably some people who are emotionally unstable and see the falling leaves as symbolic of their feelings and thus shed a few tears . . . but most leaves descend unmourned. As I reflected upon this, I decided amidst that golden shower that we don’t grieve for leaves because we know they will be replaced before too long. While the empty branches appear forlorn, we know they will have happy company in the Spring. We know that fresh leaves are on the not-too-distant horizon.

Lately, I’ve thought about my fears. One of those fears is that a golden moment will soon fade away and leave me empty. I’m scared, so I fiercely hold onto every memory I have. I hold onto those memories longer than I should - drawing out relationships, living in the past, and shying from the future. Why can’t I look at my memories the same way I looked at those falling leaves? While memories come and go, there are always new memories to be made, new adventures to be had. And just as every tree has seasons of bare branches, our lives will have wintry periods when we will be tempted to long for our autumn leaves. But if we can just wait for Spring. Then we will have a fresh set of memories that will keep us happy all day long.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf quoted Albert Camus saying that, “in the depth of winter [we find] within [us] an invincible summer.” We need the abiding hope that everything will soon be okay. We need to trust in the natural cycles of our lives, and look towards the seasons to come instead of fruitlessly trying to pick up the leaves that have fallen. Of course we can sweep up those leaves into a pile and save them (or jump in them) through scrapbooking or blogging, but trying to glue the leaves back on the tree just doesn’t work.

I think I’m done glueing. I’m waiting for Spring.

Timing

This last week I've been reading a book. I could type out the title, but the truth is that it wouldn't matter, because the concept I've drawn out of it pervades all literature, movies, television shows, etc. In the story, there are two guys and a girl. The two guys are best friends. The girl is and always has been in love with guy A. Guy B is in love with the girl, while guy A still has something for a completely different girl. Well in this telling of the timeless triangle tale, guy B died, and that prompted some intense soul-searching on the part of guy A and the girl. All that time, guy B hadn't said anything out of loyalty to his friend, and because he knew the girl loved that friend. The girl had secretly loved both of them, and admits to guy A that if his friend had asked her, she would have married him. When I read this, a thought came into my mind like, "What the crap?!?"

Why does this happen all the time? I'd like to say my previous exclamation was out of surprise, but it was out of knowing disgust. I was forced to come to the realization that this plot was familiar because I had played it out in my own life, more than once, even (Obviously I am speaking in general terms, none of my friends have died). Right now I really like a girl. I'm horrible with this sort of thing, but I thought a few years ago that she might have been interested in me. I liked her a lot too, but there was somebody else I liked more at that time and I thought it would be unfair to her to persue anything. Now that the other girl has moved on, and I like this girl, it seems that she isn't interested. How much simpler would life be if we just had better timing? There would be so much less angst, so much less grief. Good grief. People would be happier; more people would be together. And perhaps authors, screenwriters, and playwrights could move on to bigger and better plotlines.