The Autumn of an Evergreen

I recently had the privilege of assisting on a Vision Quest* hosted by the extraordinary Claire Dunn at Natures Apprentice. This meant an adventure to northern Victoria and immersion in a pristine wilderness populated with spectacular Bluegums. After an epic drive, getting out of my car and stretching my locked up body, I couldn't help bending over every meter or so to pick up the most giant gum leaves I have ever seen. Some of them 40-50cm long at least!!

"WOW", I kept saying. "WOW. Look at this one!" telling no one in particular.

"Wow, look at THAT one!."

I felt like a kid, struck with wonder at this enormous, bountiful treasure.

I was also struck by how dry the land was. While it's been flooding up north, it's been drying up down south. It made the trees seem even more amazing. Standing so tall, smothered in elegant leaves, emanating peace and grace in the heat and breeze. And a freshwater river, running low, but so clean I could drink straight from it, carving a path through the thirsty land. Butterflies everywhere.

In my 10 days there, the novelty of the leaves did not wear off. I started collecting them and laying out alters and assemblages here and there... sometimes with white powdery gumnuts, sometimes with little pebbles from the river, sometimes with strange red petals that fell from somewhere. Outside my tent, on the meal tables, next to the fire, on the log holding toilet paper next to the pit-toilet... my way of marvelling and trying to understand these beautiful leaves.

Eventually, in conversation with someone who had a gum leaf drawn on their foot, I remembered an art-installation I did, years ago at 107 Projects in Sydney, called 'The Autumn of an Evergreen'. For it I collected hundreds of fallen gum leaves, mostly from the same tree in the park, and gave myself a puzzle to solve, as a way to try to understand what was catching my attention. The puzzle being: to find a way for all the leaves to fit together. Surely if they were of similar shape there must be a way for them to tesselate or tile together to make one big shape?

 Another part of my curiosity was to study the colours that I found endlessly beautiful - the way the green ages, or dies, on a gum leaf. Again, my puzzle question: does the green go through a standard process? Does it always travel the same way from green to brown via a pathway of pinks, reds, yellows, purples, olives, greys? Or does each leaf age uniquely, inhabiting different colours as it gradually fades from life? In different areas of the leaf, in different proportions. Was there a pattern I could find? Some way of understanding this beauty?

Simple questions really, but one that fascinated me enough to sort the hundreds of leaves into piles of rough colour and size categories, and, from there, pin every single leaf to the walls of the huge gallery, in one continuous rolling line, trying to find how they fit together, trying to find the colour-fade trail.

There wasn't one, and there wasn't one.

But they did, and they did.

What I learnt was that each leaf ages differently... there was no set progression of life to death. I had colour gradations going through the most unexpected combinations - how purple moved into olive-green - for instance.

And while the leaves did not perfectly fit together, there were parts that did. If I followed these parts for long enough a gorgeous giant pattern emerged that looked like a stop-frame dance animation. The dance being that of leaves blown or tumbled by an invisible wind. As if they were shaped by the presence of the wind, even before they were born. Someone described the work as 'lyrical', someone else said it looked like a 'river'.

I also found it interesting that people generally categorised the gum tree as not having an Autumn.. or that it was not 'seasonal'.. they said it was an 'Evergreen'.

As I did this work I felt I was seeing a million Autumns. That, like the human body (and other animal or plant bodies), as we lose skin cells, hairs, nails, bits... but remain alive and living... there are parts of us always going through an Autumn. Like each leaf that falls throughout the year from a gumtree, in a sense dying, constantly. And of course, other leaves, growing anew at the same time and living, constantly.

And what is Autumn, but the parts that are ready to be let go of, pursuing a journey of separation ingrained in their DNA. Going through a process of age causing them to be different from what they once were, and being released from the living connective centre they resided with for a time. I wondered what they were moving towards.

I was absolutely struck by the beauty of this liminal place, unable to be pin-pointed with the pins I was using... but so clear.

I was also caught by how much more life experience the leaf had once leaving the tree, once on the ground. If it fell while green, it still had an age to go, of different experience and colour, before it was all the way brown. It might be months and months before it got there. So... was it alive or dead?

Autumn is often likened to the process of Grief, of which I've been thinking a lot about lately. The scientific breakdown... 'The 5 Stages of Grief' or even the '7 Stages of Grief' depending on who you are reading. Stages like Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance... (add in 'Testing' and 'Guilt' for more)... perhaps these are a bit like the colours on the dying gum-leaves.

I think I prefer understanding Grief, the way I have recently learnt, as a River. The River of Grief. Something that has a flow, or a current, that can be swum against or with, or we can be carried along by. I've come to understand that to Grieve, means, to Feel. And feeling, is life being allowed, without needing for it to be changed or fixed or unfelt. I've heard that the River of Grief eventually leads back to an Ocean of Grace, which might be understood as an experience of one-ness. However, now I'm not sure thats what I'm aiming for in this life.

I recently had a dream where a Grandfather and some Grandmother Elders (some still young) taught me a song. It only had a few words that sat amidst a giant swell of beautiful music, they went:

'If Love is a River, Listen

If Love is a River, Listen'

I'm thinking that like the gum-leaves falling and changing colour, with no actual turning point and yet infinite colour-ways, no two the same, but all the same, there comes a time where our falling tears, and the River of Grief become the River of Love. A lyrical dance with the flow of life, that when we trust in it enough, we flow too... we become the dance. The river. The life.

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 *Vision Quest is a powerful pan-cultural ancient Ceremony, involving a solo vigil in wild nature, usually 4 days and 4 nights.

**'Autumn of an Evergreen' artwork by Michelle McCosker, 2014, pictures taken by Matthew Venables.

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If you would like to explore what colours or shapes Grief, Autumn, Love, Life, dance or flow, may be offering your experience just now, in a safe and compassionate space, please book in with any one of our dedicated therapists this month.

And if that is not where you are at and you would like to unpack or be witnessed differently, you are also invited to book in for a healthy chat.

 All of you is welcome.