While driving a long stretch of highway to the airport in Virginia yesterday, I challenged myself to stay present to each moment and not get lost in the usual zone out driving induces.
As we do in class, I engaged all my senses to become fully present in the moment.
This thought flitted through my mind: Everything I need to know about life, about myself, is present in this moment. If I observe I will learn.
The brilliant colors of the fall had drained away leaving behind fading,crinkled, gray-brown leaves that appeared to cling to the branches of the trees lining the interstate. Each gust of wind enabled the leaves–that were ready to let go–to fly and swirl and dance above the interstate as if exhilarated by their liberation.
I reflected on how the tree, in order to begin the next cycle of regeneration, withdraws it’s energy from the leaves and pulls all it’s resources inwards. When the leaves aren’t fed, they shrivel and shrivel until all it takes is a gust of wind to launch them to freedom and eventual compost.

And then it occurred to me: What thoughts do I need to stop feeding?

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