My friends, who I share a group chat with, were having a rough week, and so I sent over a passage about the beauty of autumn that I read in a recent newsletter from James Clear. The passage written by Lin Yutang in her book My Country and My People reads:
“I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, because its leaves are a little yellow, its tone mellower, its colours richer, and it is tinged a little with sorrow and a premonition of death. Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor of the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and is content. From a knowledge of those limitations and its richness of experience emerges a symphony of colours, richer than all, its green speaking of life and strength, its orange speaking of golden content and its purple of resignation and death.”
I thought it was quite beautiful and sending it to a text chain of leaf-peeping New Englanders would be appreciated.
One of my friends text back and said, “I think I just took a full breath for the first time since waking up.”
Art is crucial for self-expression, cultural expression, healing, and so much more as I share often in my blog. But I’m not sure I have ever witnessed more clearly the ability for art to take us out of the everyday hustle and grind and give us a deep breath.
When we take the time to soak in art, whatever the form, we are transformed and transported, even if it is only temporarily. Our minds are cleared. We are reminded of the beauty of the world. Our tension dissipates and we are able to take that full breath our bodies so desperately need.