Autumnation.

Recently I have learned about a philosophy which places life in the perspective of a cycle.

I thought:

"How droll. "


But the more I looked at it, the philosophy caught my attention more and more.


It's called:

The Hibernation Cylce

Strange. Yet appropriate.



You see, the cycle conforms life to the laws of nature in a way. Our lives become part of the revolving door we call the seasons of the year.


Spring- One of the most pleasantly ignorant times in our lives. If only we could but see the world through these eyes, and yet retain our knowledge from darker seasons. Spring stands for new birth, a renaissance, if you will. It symbolizes the fresh, crisp, clean new start that begins us on a long journey, the most naive and sensitive time in our lives. As we experience more, however, spring slowly warms, the blooms of youth falling ever so slightly to the ground, and exposing strong, life filled, and experience worn leaves.

Summer- The summer is perhaps the prime of our physical lives (albeit physical attributes being an insignificant and worldly variable of life), having more to do about growing out than any other part of the cycle. Experience pushes us through the threshold, and we begin to enter what some may consider, the "real world". We capture all of the sun's rays of opportunity, opportunity to grow, to become strong and courageous in the face of adversity - yet some stand in the shade, afraid to be scorched by the relentless rays. Inevitably, the vitality of these rays shrinks, a cool and calming breeze rushing over us; a breeze of decisions and the set consequences of our actions. No more having to worry over the future, because the future has been chosen.

Autumn- Perhaps, to me, the most important phase of the revolution. The follow through. Releasing the ball towards its intended target. All of the experiences, the growth, the opportunities and decisions made, come to a head. Autumn is the time of action, of understanding, and trial. The leaves that once grew their owners strong now wither in the lack of sunlight, the calming winds take over and chill the air into a less warming environment. And then action strikes, forcing survival on every man... or tree it can find. Taking everything previously worked for and testing it, refining the ideals, the work, the suffering, the experiences - Spring and Summer, until all that's left is what truly stood the test of life - what truly made the existence worth creating. A last kick, a last furiously magnificent blast of colors, blowing into the calming winds, out showing the youthful vibrant colors of bygone times, as a vindication for all the effort, to show that yes, this was all worth growing up for. And once this climactic event has been flaunted, has been tested, has been shown for what it is worth, nature responds, chilling the air into a frigid standstill, as if to create submission for the enormous amount of energy in passing. As if to chill the iron after it has been struck one final time.

Winter- By far the most suppressive, chilling, and sought for season. Cool, sweet, sometimes reluctant death awaits the post "Autumnation", taking with it the evidence, the proof that some magical and inspiring whirl of color and promise ever existed, to some hidden place, stowed safely away to be used only for rekindling spring. But not until Winter has had its effect. Every last branch is bear, no longer growing, stopped, and dead. Cold. Unimaginably and wretchedly ironic, that such a beautiful cycle must end on such a low note. And yet, with the coming of Winter, one remembers that the struggle was in spite of Winter, in preparation. One remembers that Winter had given the Spring inspiration to bring forth life, Summer its drive to grow, and Autumn its very instinct and natural obligation to carry through with the overall purpose of existence. Without Winter, there is no purpose. Without Winter, Benjamin Franklin is horribly wrong: "Don't put off till tomorrow what can be done today." Why rush? The cycle becomes a line, everlasting, ever stretching, ever meaningless, ever uninspired. Winter brings hope, brings purpose, brings new life before it ever happens. And this is why, after the chill has had its way, the amazing beauty of a past generation is passed on, unlocked from the frosting bosom of Winter, from its sleeping, yet restless, hibernation from that glorious past effort.
And then that warmth....my friends...



begins anew.