It is true as it is beautiful that the process of putting to death our old self and with it the grip and weight fastened upon our hearts, a gateway is opened for rebirth to come upon us with the sweet newness of hope and of a renewed limitlessness of possibility, wonders, awe and expectations.

This season, as leaves fall, let the weight of death fall too from your shoulders. As the trees prepare to stand naked and unencumbered by the weight of vanity to withstand the onslaught of a violent winter, learn from their determined firmness, holding fast to their foundations as tempests rage about them, death winning the day.

You too then, reach deeper into what cannot be moved while the frailties of the temporal are shattered and torn from your limbs until all that remains is hope in the eternal goodness to come once more. For while hope alone cannot make the sun again rule over the night, it is by hope that the night is survived.