I snapped these photos of the neighborhood trees and one of our oak trees yesterday. It was a cool, overcast, and drizzly morning but the colors of the leaves popped. The same view this morning, with the bright November sunshine radiating the colors is also beautiful, but, in my opinion, not as striking.
Something hit me as I stood and looked down the street. The first thought that jumped out of my brain didn’t jive with the beauty before me.
What was that first thought?
I saw all those leaves in their various stages of color transformation and thought, “Man, I’m going to have to rake up all those SOBs soon.”
The other side of my brain quickly jumped in. “But, they’re so beautiful. Just take a few deep breaths and enjoy.” I took that advice.
Even standing in a cold drizzle couldn’t rob that moment of natural wonder. It made me wonder, though, why I would think such an initial negative reaction. Truthfully, it made me feel a little guilty. Why didn’t I just immediately go glass half full instead of starting glass half empty?
I was reminded of a chapter I’d recently read in Secrets of the Mind compilation from Scientific American on how our brains learn by processing information in interconnecting neural maps. The negative thoughts and experiences on raking leaves are neurally associated with leaves turning vibrant colors and falling to the ground.
I didn’t feel so guilty then. My brain was just doing what brains do. It processed the visual information as an awesome sight and triggered a little response to remind me I would have work to do. My brain was taking care of me!
I also learned an important take-home lesson. Amazing things require work.
Whether it’s art, athletics, family, school, work, or something as simple as the leaves changing, remarkable things in this world are built on a scaffold of effort. The glass is half full because somebody put in the effort to fill it.
It’s your choice. Do the work and fill the glass? Do the work and fill your space with kindness and beauty? Or not?
I know which I choose. I know there’s a cost and work to be done. But, that’s okay. The end result is worth the work. Enjoying a remarkable and beautiful sight in my neighborhood is worth the work I’ll do picking up the leaves.
Silver linings are sewn from the thread of effort.
Thanks, Mother Nature, for the reminder.
Now, where’s that damn rake?