It is autumn in my northern world. The trees are nearly bare; the flowers fading into memory. But one of my naturalist teachers through remarkable writing reminds me that all is connected, even at these times. I think back to the summer and a flower I may have accidentally hurt or even picked to take a closer look. The flowers of the summer are gone. The flowers of the spring are storing life in a deep, dark sleep. The flowers of autumn are ready to add their molecules to the compost.
All in all, it is a time for regrouping and looking ahead.
But we must be careful. All is connected. All things are one, the stuff of stars and the dust of eons past.
One could not pluck a flower without troubling a star.