The wisdom of the leaves

At the end of the Summer, I start missing the warm days with plenty of sunshine and colourful flowers. To me, Autumn used to be the season that brings the cold and dark days, culminating in the freezing days of Winter. This Autumn, I opened my eyes to another aspect of the season which prepares the nature for hibernation.

I have the tendency to forget how beautiful nature is in the Autumn. The most talented painter could not paint as stunning an Autumn landscape as the nature does it. In October when the grass is still green, and the trees are changing colours, some of the early falling leaves masterfully decorate the grass, better than any interior designer.

Some trees whose leaves are sometimes golden like mini suns, and sometimes fiery, are so breathtaking that every single one of them would deserve a poem. I’d love to be the one writing a poem, at least for one. Unfortunately, their beauty puts a spell on my soul and silences my mind. I have the urge to kneel in front of such a magnificent tree and hug its trunk.

Some of the leaves that are scattered on the ground have not withered yet; they still catch the eye with their rusty colours. There is so much dignity in how they end their life.

There is also acceptance of the inevitable end, in the way they lie on the ground allowing people to trample on them.

Eventually, the less lucky ones are carried away by the wind to a place far away where they wither alone. They experience their last adventure during which they see a more dynamic version of the world compared to the static perspective they’ve been accustomed to.

But other leaves stick around the tree that nurtured them. That’s where they’ll dry out. But not before passing on the tree their secret – how they face the end with beauty and dignity.

The tree will guard their secret for the leaves that will bud the following year. At the right time, it will reveal the information to the new leaves, which will then know to put on their best garment before letting themselves fall into the unknown of afterlife.


Is there an afterlife?

This is the question. I know it is a heavy and sensitive topic to discuss in a blog post. I only want to write a few of my fleeting thoughts as they pertain to my previous post “Dreams, poems and soul connection”. In that post, I wrote that at the right time and place, I may find a psychology book that discusses the question “is there a life after death?”.

The right time and place were decided a few days ago by my baby, who discovered the bookshelf. With the excitement of researching a new corner in the house, he took two books out of the shelf. One of them was a book on Computational Complexity, which is my husband’s. I instantly put it back. The other one was Jesse Bering’s “The God Instinct, The Psychology of Souls, Destiny, and the Meaning of Life“. I kept it and left it on the table in the living room to read it, whenever my small dictator would allow me.

When I was pregnant, I had already read the first two chapters after which, I put it back in the bookshelf. I was too emotional to continue reading it. I was provoked by Jesse Bering’s statements that revolved around the main point that God is merely an illusion of our modern minds. Now, when my baby chose it from among the other books on the bookshelf, I decided to continue reading it. This time, I emptied my mind of personal beliefs and read it with genuine interest to pick Jesse Bering’s mind on the topic. Here and there, I found it funny and page by page, I found it very rich in scientific information about the human mind.

I was excited to find the question on afterlife, being discussed from the perspective of a psychological scientist. In the world of a psychological scientist, the main question is not whether there is a life after death but why do human beings, like myself, raise this question. A simple and short answer is that we have the desire to believe that death is not the end. Why do we have such a desire? Here, researchers in psychology have different theories. Social psychologists argue that human beings have a fear of death, hence the belief in afterlife. Yet, other researchers found no correlation between fear of death and belief in the afterlife.

Other researchers who are supporters of the evolution of the theory of mind, such as Jesse Bering, argue that we don’t have the ability to imagine ourselves into a life, where sensations and mental experiences lack altogether. In other words, ever since human beings existed, we have had problems grasping the idea that our minds are mortal. Therefore, we choose to believe that life and death are two great mysteries.

By the time I finished reading the book, I liked it tremendously. I liked that it is replete with psychological research findings. On the one hand, I liked that Jesse Bering challenged maybe the most heartfelt belief that we have, that is the belief in the existence of God. It is a proof that our societies have indeed evolved. On the other hand, Jesse Bering focused on the mind, which my gut feeling tells that it may not offer the answer to whether or not there is an afterlife or a God. In my subjective reality, the mind is hindering the ability to come closer to The truth of life and death.

I don’t believe in any religion. Religions have done nothing but manipulating human beings by others who wanted the power. Religions have done nothing but preventing people from setting their minds and souls free.

I believe partly in science, which provides intellectual satisfaction to understand something of the surrounding world. Yet, I made up my mind. My soul believes that there is a God, or a Being, the way Eckhart Tolle calls God in “The Power of Now“, the “ever-present One Life beyond the myriad forms of life that are subject to birth and death.” I choose to free myself from my mind and embrace the enlightenment. I choose to find my “true nature beyond name and form”.

Is there an afterlife? In the light of my spiritual experiences, I say that there is. We shall find out The truth at the end of the road. Till then, let’s enjoy the journey the best we can, shall we?