What is your music of Autumn? Is it the drumming of falling chestnuts? Is it the whooshing of bouncing conkers? Or maybe a lullaby of dying trees? Pattering of squirrel’s feet, or the moaning of wind? The silence of the early nights or the roar of artificial lights? What is your music of Autumn? The whispers of ancestors form my melody.
A mighty forest grows within me – ancient one, primordial. I can feel the tangle of roots and branches within me. Through this forest my ancestors walk, leaving the residue of their being – part me, part foreign. Part me, part them – I am. I can hear their words in the song of migrating birds, in the calling of the wind. For me the music of autumn is the song of my ancestors. The song of the earth element, of their bones, and my bones, of their ashes, and the blood flowing through my veins. The blood carrying the forgotten stories. Stories ready to be heard in the quieting noise of dying nature. The voices whispered in the wind are coming from afar and not so long ago. One of my grandmothers came to me today during my Cacao Ceremony with her mother and a message – I am your ancestor too, she said. You cannot always pick and mix, hear me now. You cannot choose your blood – find strength in the wisdom of our mistakes. I stopped and listened – what a strange message coming from a woman I have chosen not to know so well. A message I am now so grateful for. I am my blood and at the same time so much more than my blood. I open myself not only to my past but also into the future – into a place where I am an ancestor too. Into a place, where I guide the children and grandchildren of my son and nieces into listening to the songs their blood is singing. To the rattling of my bones and the truth held within. This connection is open through my heart and my womb. Cacao Mama showed me her cacao pod today. Through this image our wombs connected – our wombs filled with light and possibilities. The possibilities of what was and what is still to come. The wisdom stored in the very structure of my cells. Dormant within yet ready to wake up.
Not so long ago we went through the portal of the equinox, of daytime matching the time of night – perfect equilibrium. Now we are thrown into lengthening darkness and introspection. The time of ghouls, ghosts, and Halloween extravaganza. Scary moments of silence, of facing ourselves, our fears, and wounds. So, maybe this year, instead of creating artificial noise to drown down the inner voice we’ll turn our inner truth right up. Maybe this year we could open ourselves, slow down, listen and invite our ancestors in. They have so much to teach us, so much wisdom to share with us, so much protection to grant us. I love this time of year. The time of transition, when the memory of the juiciness of summer is still present, but at the same time the broadcast of death has already begun. When the chill, piercing through our skin and through our bones sings the song of coming winter, still being able to melt down in the autumn sun – giving hope for the return of life, for rebirth. Nature is tired and so are we. The wheel is turning, inviting us in, displaying new opportunities, new ends, and new beginnings.
I would like to invite you to take a stroll through your inner forest. Meet your ancestors, listen to their stories, and see how different they are from your own story. Or maybe the similarities between them will surprise you. Ask them for help, they will listen. Ask their advice, or simply spend some time with them. Dust off the old photos of your grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Burn some incense and light some candles. Leave them the offering of food or their favorite drink. Come with me on my Cacao Ceremony. Just stop whatever you are doing and listen deeply. Listen to the music of your autumn.
Photo credit: Isha
The Music of Autumn photo: Katarzyna Drabek