This year we had a glorious Canadian fall - full of sunshine, bright blue skies and warm breezes. The leaves danced on the trees well past the date that we should have been raking them into big brown compost bags. I took time to sit in a sunny spot with a warm cup of coffee in hand, laughing and enjoying the reprieve. “Glorious day, isn’t it?” we said to one another; we were giddy knowing that winter would be weeks in coming.

The next day it snowed.

The chaos was perplexing. Mother nature had gotten it wrong. The squirrels, caught off-guard, scrambled to store a few more nuts as we humans scrambled to find mitts and coats and get the patio furniture stored away for the season.

Boots on, I went for a walk in the woods and smiled at the juxtaposition of seasons out of order. A little reminder that life doesn’t always happen predictably, according to rules and “the way it should.”

“Should”

It comes up a lot in my tapes. I hear it followed by a whole list of judgments around the things I “should” have done, “should” do and “should” be.

It’s a really long list.

It’s an exhausting list.

I hate that list.

I don’t know who gave me all these imperatives, these conditions for living life well, but the rules of who I am supposed to be keep me constantly looking over my shoulder with a laboured feeling of obligation: I should finish the book, (rule: all books should be read to the end – even the ones you don’t like), I should tidy my office (rule: all desks should be clean – even if you are more creative in clutter), I should send a birthday wish to that friend (rule: all friends should be acknowledged on their day as prompted by Facebook). They are silly inconsequential imperatives that stop me from living spontaneously.

As I walk through the snow, I soften into the moment - here there are no “shoulds.”

Nature doesn’t succumb to our expectations. She doesn’t always respect order, nor do I think she fears our judgment. I bet she doesn’t finish the book when it is boring just as she doesn’t care if snow falls on leaves. I think she just smiles and is content to play by her own rules.

Ooh, I like the sound of that!

Playing by my own rules:

Read the book until it is no longer captivating.

Work wherever your creative spirit calls you.

Call the friends you miss when you miss them.

Eat when you are hungry, not because the clock says “lunchtime.”

Ignore the ringing phone unless now is when you want to talk to that person.

Wear pyjamas all day when you are writing.

Don’t finish the bottle of wine you don’t like; put it in the spaghetti sauce.

It turns out there is no “way it is supposed to be” and the chorus in my head can be quieted if I pay attention and connect to the impulse I feel in the moment. Judgment and rules are replaced by the glorious moment of choice. It is a deeply honouring, freeing feeling that comes when I replace the obligation of “should” with the opportunity of “choose.”

There is exquisite beauty to be found when snow falls on the leaves.

In celebration,

Tania