Fall foliage, the consolidation of political power, and the transcendence of duality.
Transcript
A couple Sundays ago, I went for a bike ride with my family on a trail that used to be an old railway line that traced alongside the eastern shores of the Allegheny River in northern Pennsylvania. It was a perfect fall day: just a little cool, with sunshine filtering through the fall foliage in warm yellows and reds. The colorful leaves had me thinking about a passage from a memoir I have been writing intermittently. Not making much of it - other than an appreciation of natural beauty - I enjoyed the biking trip and started my work week the next day.
A few days later, I had a dream that seemed to take place during a similarly beautiful fall day. However, in addition to the fall leaves, the dream included other images that grabbed my attention: specifically, there was an image of a human figure climbing up one of those colorful trees through two forking branches that seemed to act as some sort of threshold; and then another image (seemingly connected but otherwise lacking context) of a single, raised fist.
While dreams almost always have something to say about what is going on in the life of the dreamer, it is said sometimes a dream seems to possess a more expansive, collective significance, as if the dream-maker was commenting on something going on in the world at large; and this dream felt that way. As I worked with the dream that day, I wondered what connection might exist between the images of the falling leaves and the raised fist. The image of the fist reminded me about how we are often encouraged to assume the opposite posture: to be open-headed… not holding tightly to things that are changing, but rather holding space for life to unfold as it will.
But the dream seemed to suggest that there was something valuable about the fist, perhaps something my open-handed mindset was overlooking. The raised fist, of course, is also a socio-political symbol of solidarity; and as far as the dream commenting on things happening in the world today, this seemed fit. With the US midterm election approaching, the war in Ukraine continuing to evolve, and other narratives of division and polarity playing out in various parts of the world, it seems that solidarity with those who are like-minded is something we all are seeking. As far as my own experience was concerned, the election seemed to be especially poignant; somehow, my cell phone number made its way to lists for both Democratic and Republican text message campaigns, and so I’ve been witness to the tactics both of these political parties are using to foster solidarity among their constituents.
It was in musing on the idea of solidarity that I seemingly found a connection between the image of the fist on my dream and the fall leaves. The leaves of deciduous trees change color, of course, when the chlorophyll that gives them their green appearance is pulled back into the body of the tree for the sake of recycling this valuable resource. When I picture this pulling back of chlorophyll in my mind, I can imagine it being similar to the motion of the fingers of a hand contracting down into a fist; and as the tree consolidates its resources for the winter, I can imagine the similarity to ideological groups attempting to consolidate their political power before an election.
The time of year when most leaves change their color in the northern hemisphere (which also happens to be the time of year that the US holds all its major elections) is when the sun is in the region of the sky which, according to the symbol system inherent to the ancient practice of astrology, is known as Scorpio. The Scorpionic archetype is associated with fixity and the element of water. It is the time that we in the northern hemisphere experience consistent overnight frosts. Scorpio, as a symbol of fixed water, is associated with frost and ice, but also the concept of plumbing - both in the sense of fixing water within a rigid container, and seeking out definitive truth on a given matter by getting to the very bottom of the situation… like ‘plumbing the depths’. The xylem and phloem within trees are Nature's form of plumbing, and the drawing down of the tree’s chlorophyll seems, to me, to be another Scorpionic activity.
Interestingly enough (since I’ve brought up our elections and political practices), Scorpio is also associated with deception and suspicion, which are two themes that seem to be relevant to the way some in the political sphere are going about garnering greater solidarity for their party.
Wanting to get back to the beauty of the fall foliage, I feel compelled to return to the passage I mentioned from my memoir-in-progress. In it, I discuss the seasons in Pennsylvania where I live - how we live in rhythm with the seasons and look forward to their changes. Here is a bit of that passage:
Every Pennsylvanian I know anticipates with excitement the first sight of tiny flurries of snow, the first day warm enough to drive with the windows open, the first day hot enough to swim or lay out, and the first hint of the smell of fallen leaves in the air.
Fall is my favorite season. I love that smell of the leaves, the crispness of the air, and, having lived practically my whole life as a student or teacher, the feeling of newness and possibility that comes with the start of a new school year.
Celtic tradition claims the veil between this world and the next is particularly thin at this time of year, which might explain the subtle, almost mystical feeling I experience every year when the leaves are changing color.
I think we have something to learn from the leaves. All summer they faithfully perform their silent, invisible work – feeding everything that will in turn feed us. As their duties draw to a close, they celebrate in style. All yellow and red, they laugh, dance, and sing in radiant color. The hillsides chant a sweet and rich song honoring the changing of time, life, and death.
Then they fall. Sometimes you see it happen in a flurry, perhaps while you’re out walking some Sunday morning. More often, their time in the eaves ends as quietly as their life’s work. They gently let go, and we wake up and our lawns are covered with their earthy, mottled blanket. Perhaps we stop to study them the next morning when we go out for our Saturday hike, dumbfounded by how quickly it happened. Or perhaps we leave them overlooked as we hurriedly climb into our car to get to work on time, still sleepy since the sun now rises much later than it did a month ago. Once on the ground they let go again – slowly – breaking down and crumbling back into the ground, becoming the soil that will grow the food for the next year and the next generation.
Every Pennsylvanian I know rakes leaves, or at least has. In Williamsport [that’s where I lived when I started writing the memoir] after you rake your leaves, you pile them in the street just off the curb. On some unpredictable day, a giant truck with a giant vacuum will come down your street to suck up all your leaves and carry them off to who-knows-where. But I often wonder if this is what the leaves would want. Are they not meant to fall and decompose where they lie, simply to return and give nourishment to the same ground out of which they sprung?
Regardless, we Pennsylvanian’s rake our leaves. Perhaps with how messy life is, it makes us feel better to not have a messy yard.
The mess of life I was thinking about when I wrote that was the kind of personal mess we all can feel from time to time. But just the way that dreams can expand from the personal into the collective, so it seems our occasional personal messes have continued to expand year after year so that now we are experiencing a great collective mess on many levels.
Thinking about that mess, especially the political rancor expressing itself at this moment, has me thinking again about the symbolism of the zodiac from ancient astrology. Arguably, the “messiest” sign of the zodiac is Pisces. In truth, Pisces isn’t about messes, but rather is about the underlying unity of all things and the dissolution of boundaries; so instead of the clearly delineated world of measurement and categories that we common perceive, life ends up looking like one big soup; and I imagine that, to some, this would seem like a mess.
The image associated with the sign of Pisces is two fish swimming in opposite directions but connected to one another at the mouth by a cord. Thinking on this image, I’m reminded of the well-known quote from Carl Jung - “Life proceeds in pairs of opposites” - as well as the term, the Transcendent Function, that he coined. The idea of the Transcendent Function is that, when an individual or group of people can tolerate tension between opposing options within a given dilemma, a third, previously unperceived option arises that manages to marry desirable qualities to the two opposing sides.
After Pisces in the zodiac comes Aries, understood to be the first sign within the zodiacal wheel. Aries is a sign of individuated identity, and the sun moves through the part of the sky known as Aries during the early spring, when new life is pushing up out of the ground. This reminds me again of the fist from the dream, but instead of the fingers closing down, Aries suggests the fist pushing up out of the mess. But Aries doesn’t remain individuated. The glyph or written character used to denote Aries is a vertical line that splits into two lines moving in opposite directions at the top. It’s meant to resemble the head of a ram, the animal associated with Aries, and its two horns. But the glyph is also a reminder that, anytime something new is created, its opposite (or its shadow) is also created.
This dual nature of creation finally brings me back to the other image from the dream: the human figure climbing through the two forking branches of a tree. It seems possible that the dream was presenting an image of Jung’s Transcendent Function, and with the US midterm election approaching, I’ve been wondering how the Transcendent Function could possibly be at work as we all go off to place check marks in one of two boxes.
I do not have an answer. Nor do I mean, through this analysis, to suggest that anyone should vote or not vote in any particular way; but I hope that these images might give us all something to consider as we approach election day, as we wait for the results, and as we decide how to respond to what those results will be. Ever eager to look to Nature for wisdom and guidance, as I consider the examples of pairs of opposites Nature provides for us - like day and night, winter and summer - it seems to me that the arguably most beautiful times are to be found in between: sunrise and sunset, the brilliant fall leaves and the blooming of springtime flowers.
When transcendence seems to the elusive, I choose to hold with these things.