Where Is He?

Autumn has closed in on life here, and the harvest draws near. The wind no longer playfully whips me with a light warm breeze; but attacks me with its icy daggers brought by the coming winter. The songbirds of summer have gone; their melodies have dwindled and are unable to linger in my ears. It seems as though the world is shutting down, preparing for winter hibernation. Yet, the squirrels still frolic merrily. They chase after each other, dodging in and out of secret places seeming to not have a single care in the world. It's a sign that this life will prevail.
Life is so delicate, but treated as though it is common knowledge for it to be able to weather a thousand storms. There is strength in the individual things that make up this life and world, but as a whole even the slightest vibration could shatter it like a pane of glass. There is much wonder and aspiration held up in the individual. The tiniest of things could send the world into a spiral. If the cock did not crow, would the sun not rise? Surly, it would still rise, for it is not the cock that controls the sun. But would the farmer wake? Would the day's deeds be done if the cock did not crow?
So much depends on the little, individual things. One cannot make a pie without first having the apples to put into it. And one would not have those apple had the farmer not woken to plant the seeds to make the trees from which the apples grow. It is all the small things, those things most mistaken for nothing of importance, which make the world what it is, and help it function smoothly. Nature, the world, is filled with such small things that may not be anything special, but matter when it comes to the whole.
The bee that hums a buzz around you teacup and saucer in the spring, is not only beautiful, and somewhat annoying, but the bringer of life with its distinct hum. That bee pollinates the flowers flourishing in your garden. It helps your flowers bloom into rainbows of color. The worm in your garden is not unsightly. Why, that worm makes the soil in your garden lush, so that the bee may pollinate your flowers, and so that they will thrive in your oasis. The worm also serves as food for the lovely birds that nest in a nearby tree. There is beauty in all of nature's creatures.
The trees, which the squirrels and birds call home, bear no fruit, -no real leaves for that matter, but they are decorated by autumn's kiss with golden hues. They glow softly, smiling if you will, they are happy to still have children and squirrels rejoicing in their glory. I love to watch the squirrels dance between the trees. The tree's majestic branches sway in rhythm with the beat of my heart. A secret timing we all share. Life this day is slow.
Though life everyday should be slow. Slow enough to stop and enjoy the falling of the leaves, an all too distant memory from childhood, I wish I had time for that now. I wish I had time to lie on the grass after a morning rain and let all the fresh smells seep into me. To have time to look at the clouds and make up stories from the shapes they make, that would be a blessing. To stop, breathe, look, and know that life can be slow, that is what I look forward to with the rest of my days. Life tomorrow will be slow.
Tomorrow will be one new day of beginnings, one new day for hope; one new day to enjoy what beauty there is in the world. For there is such beauty in the world. The simplest of things, those that are most often taken for granted, I know as the most beautiful. The falling of the leaves puts me in a stupor of awe. When the leaves of autumn float down to the ground it seems as though a dance is being preformed relentlessly without thanks. Leaves have undying devotion in their pursuit of the perfect autumn. They age with grace, I would say. First being bright and ready for each new day, they are green, and do not know of what lies ahead. Time passes, as it always does, and I find that leaves have weathered so much more that I, and are already coming into a prime. A time when those leaves wear their "golden oldies" colors with pride. Soon they will wrinkle as all-knowing things do, and gently pass into the abyss of forgotten memories. I do not thank the leaves enough.
The squirrels I've seen give quiet thanks to the leaves that fall from the trees, their cozy homes. Squirrels are perfect neighbors for trees. They provide friendly chatter, and in turn their towering companions keep them safe and warm. They are partners these gentle giants and furry beasts. Today, the squirrels are jovial and full of energy. They hunt for nuts and berries, to keep their families full in the winter months ahead. I see squirrels running to and fro, with no real destination in sight. They are free it seems. An outsider would say that the life of a squirrel is simple. The outsider would say that all a squirrel need do is eat, sleep and leap from one adventure to another. I have watched these squirrels, and I see complexity in their lives. A squirrel may only need to eat, sleep, and be merry, but so do most people then. All that is needed in life is shelter, food, and sleep. Those are life's basic necessities. But where do costume balls, and espressos, and Italian leather shoes fit in? People, as a whole, set out to make life more complicated, or so it appears. Thus, life is more complicated, for everything, not only people. The squirrel's life is more complex now because of people. People need places to hold costume balls, espresso stands, and Italian shoe stores. Where do such places come from? They come from destroying the world's beauty, the squirrel's homes, to make and provide these things that people so desperately need. These "perfect" places come from sacrificing the little things. They come from abandoning the leaves, the bees, the pies, and all the "good things" that there's just not enough of. It is a bigger sacrifice than the "new" me wants to take. I cannot change how the past has influenced me, but I can choose how to shape and influence my future. I want to make my life far less complicated. I must remind myself to breathe more, and worry less. People need to slow down. Life could be simple. Life could be slow.
My day is filled with little things. Bees buzzing, leaves falling, and people eating pie can overwhelm just one day. It is filled with playful squirrels running in and out of secret places, as if in search for the answers to life's unknowns. I wonder if those squirrels have any idea as to what they are constantly searching for. Creatures such as these are in part my soul mates. They fully understand what I can only glance at, - the simplicities of the world. They remind me that I myself am in constant search for the unraveling of mysteries in my own life. Those mysteries can wait; life from now on will be slow.