And so we arrive at another substantial marker of time – a holiday that brings us together for the fullness of the fall harvest – a rich time of year. We celebrate our connections to our People and our Earth, the conclusion of the autumn – the beginning of the Winter.

I use this landmark to reflect and meditate, to harvest thoughts and emotions from the fall and prepare here a dish of the ethereal sorts – nourishment for the heart and mind and spirit – to share.

This great universe of ours has showered me with an abundance of new experience – some more pleasant and enjoyable – but all infused with some sort of medicine (sometimes painfully bitter) for my heart, spirit, and body. I would say that these experiential elixirs have had a theme, the theme of relations and family.

I have traveled a quite a bit this fall, for joyous family events: to support a brother in his journey towards increasing maturity as he prepares to start his own family; to join with cousins in joy as they unite two wonderful people and their families; to see a grandfather and cousins who live far away though they used to be neighbors; and to see friends from a period of life I too often don’t remember.

The thread of loss has also been woven into this story. Because hanging out with Grandpa sharpens the physical absence of Grandma. And because seeing family who I haven’t seen in years reminds of how incredibly wonderful it was to live close and visit frequently, and now that’s been lost as we spread and drift across this large land we live in. And seeing friends from high school elucidates lost innocence and the lack of the lightness that comes with with not having responsibilities as a teenager, and the loss of a bright friend, for whom I still mourn.

But there’s a powerful goodness to the sharp metallic refining energy of the autumn – it shows us that we must let go of some of our leaves and branches to stay healthy and whole. And that the scars of fallen branches are part of the what make a tree beautiful, and part of what make a tree strong. From our grieving we’re able to gain a sense of reverence for the fragility of life – and a deeper understanding of the true value of different things and people in our lives.

As I breathe in the strong medicine of the experiences of this past fall, which included struggles and stress, and joyful celebrations, and remembering losses, I’m left with a deep sense of gratitude to grandfather fire and mother earth, for the warmth and nourishment they provide; and equally to my family, near or far, close or distant, connected by blood, spirit, or both. I give thanks for the many amazing and beautiful people (and creatures) who I get to call brother, sister, mother, father, and cousin.