The morning is quiet and calm. Niní (aspen trees) hold their pose, still as a photo, their slender white trunks and thousands of leaves remain static, perhaps in deep prayer at this holy time of day when Aan (sun) rises to light our way.
Even magpie, blue jay, and squirrel, who so often use Niní as runways or landing pads, are breaking from their busywork.
In the low light of dawn leaves look a silvery gray. Is it the light? Evidence of smoke and ash from too many forest fires? Pollen? Or just the sign of Mother Nature reminding us summer will be winding down. Soon we’ll soak up the lessons and presence of fall. It makes me wonder: Are we ready for fall? Are we ready for the deep challenges and joys fall will bring?
Now I see leaves here and there, just a few, gently waving. Maybe these are the first of the leaves finishing their morning prayers. Now they are still again. Were they reprimanded for moving too soon? Like a squirmy child in church struggling against an uncomfortable pew?
I hope not.
I enjoy the graceful movement of Niní leaves. I find their movement fun and wise. Just as when children move, play, and engage Mother Nature’s classroom with joy and ease–there is a truthful, loving wisdom-knowing in process.
Wisdom-knowing in process. I think that’s a lovely vision for education. I ask myself: What kind of education do I want?
I crave an education system that gives us room–precious space in a precious place–to move, play, and breathe with our minds, bodies, and spirits all engaged in activities and relationships that nurture our growth as kind, fierce, critical and creative thinkers.
For many students and educators it’s back to school time. It’s a time for us to pause in this holy moment and consider: What do we want? Where are we going? What are the wisdom-knowing gaps most important for us to fill at this time?
Niní leaves remain mostly still. Now and then I witness soft movements. I notice how when one clump of leaves moves a momentum happens in which other clumps of leaves on the same branch will gently follow suit. Soon the entire branch waves, just a bit.
I smile in recognition of the just-needed lesson in front of me. What is my momentum? When am I the leaf that begins the process for a branch to gently wave? When am I responding to the movement and momentum of a neighboring leaf or branch?
I wish you kindness, fierceness, and creativity on your wisdom-knowing journey.
Do you need a kind, fierce, and creative community in which to joyfully and confidently plan your writing projects for this year? Join us on Tuesday, August 31 at 9-11am Pacific (12-2pm Eastern) to Plan Your Writing Projects (The Auntie Way)!
Michelle M. Jacob 