Autumn Musings: I Am Not Going to Live Forever
Music, Video, Photographs and an Essay
Here is a video of a song I wrote in the early 1990s, inspired by the fall season and an article I read in Utne Reader. Entitled "The Acceleration Syndrome", the article spoke to how so many of us are rushed and seem to have so little time, in spite of numerous time saving devices. The lyrics make reference to some technological devices that now, over 30 years later, have become quaint and outdated. The visuals come from my library of videos and photos taken at some of my favorite Nature places, including Rio Grande del Norte National Monument in northern New Mexico; Pueblo Mountain Park in my hometown of Beulah, Colorado; Bear Creek Park in Colorado Springs; Canyonlands National Park in Utah; and Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve in southern Colorado. It is graced by images of some of the people I love, and love spending time with in beautiful places.
The Acceleration Syndrome is on the album Earth Chants Earth Songs by Dave & Helene Van Manen. The Van Manens’ delightful music for children can be found at Van Manens Music for Children, Teachers and Families.
Here is a short essay I wrote exactly nine years ago today, September 30, 2015. It is included in my collection of essays, Walking in Awe: Reflections of a Nature-Loving Nonprofit Director, published last year by Middle Creek Publishing & Audio. It weaves together the beauty of the autumn landscape with an awareness captured by sayings like Life is Short; Seize the Moment; You don’t live forever; Carpe diem; If not now, when?
How Many More Autumns Do I Have Left?
“The seasons come and go, summer follows spring and fall follows summer and winter follows fall, and human beings are born and mature, have their middle age, begin to grow older and die, and everything has its cycles. Day follows night, night follows day. It is good to be part of all of this.” ~ American Indian saying
“One thing I want to do on this little getaway is walk in an aspen forest!” I said these words to Helene while leaving for a short getaway last week. As we drove our 1995 Eurovan west into the mountains, the colors of autumn were brilliantly alive as we headed towards a little town on Colorado’s western slope. I was pleased that we managed to carve out a few days from our busy lives, especially as we realized that it was peak fall season for the aspens.
After a couple of glorious days filled with good simple food, hot springs soaking, and hiking (in green conifer forests), some unforeseen circumstances necessitated we head for home sooner than we had planned. As we retraced our path back through Colorado’s high country, I realized that my wish for a saunter among the golden aspens did not happen. While taking in the lovely fall scenery through the windshield of the van, I thought to myself, “How many more autumns will I get to experience before I am dead?” A sentiment well stated by Steve Jobs put it another way – how most things “just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.” Somewhere I heard that Buddhist philosophy says we have less time than we think.
Such thoughts led me to realize that this is my last autumn while in my 50s. “We may need to get home,” I thought, “but it can wait just a little while longer.” Taking that saunter in an aspen forest quickly became truly important. I found a little turnoff that led us to just what I was looking for. We were soon immersed in the magic of an autumn aspen forest. The golden light seemed to be coming out of the leaves themselves as they percussively tinkled with the breeze.
I am not one to dwell on death and dying. But I am also not one who thinks that I am going to live to 110, and that my body will be able to do anything I want it to do right up until I’m 110. Life sure seems to be slipping by, and I have no idea if I have ten? twenty? thirty? forty? more autumns left. Or maybe this one is going to be my last. What I do know is that I am not going to live forever, and as hard as I try to keep my body healthy and strong, I know that this body of mine is not designed to go on forever. Bodies get old, and they eventually quit working. Until then, I plan on experiencing as many walks among the autumn aspens – and the winter, spring and summer aspens too – as I can.
We are all just visiting.
My hope is to leave it better than I found it.
Wishing you many more golden Aspen viewings!