For the past several mornings our backyard has sounded like the jungle. There’s a new bird in town and his song is wild and beautiful.

“The Change” to fall felt clear a couple of weeks ago, and with the recent storm, abrupt. This change is apparent not only in the weather; also in the air, in the leaves, and… in the body. It’s as though there’s a wise, old part of us that knows that the hoeing, planting, and working of summer is past. Now it’s time to harvest and feast and rest.

This kind of shift is a type of Aparigraha or non-grasping, letting go–one of the Yamas, or restraints, of the yoga practice. Letting things be. Not reaching out for, not holding on to. Everything in its own time, its own way.

Nature is forever our teacher. The sky holds all conditions with ease, kindness, and without preference. Look at any garden and you can sense that it’s preparing for a long nap. Already there are decorations of brittle leaves on the ground. (I wonder, does the tree let go of the leaf, or does the leaf let go of the tree?) It’s a perfect process. It’s Aparigraha.

And today, my new friend, the wild song bird, is gone.

Yoga,
I open my body.
As if it were a cloak
woven of fear
and joy.
In my imagination
a breath of wind
blows through me
and a million wild birds
burst into uniquity.

–Walter Brown