Denouements

It’s only in the latter half of my life, in fact only in the last decade, that the denouements of things have started appearing on the radar of my consciousness. Before now, things ended, of course, but I usually didn’t see it coming, or if I did, my instinct was often to duck for cover as things fell apart. Now I aim for graceful endings, soft landings, an appreciation and enjoyment of the slowing, the descent, the closing: the ripening of things that have come to fruition, and their eventual and inevitable decay.

Not everything does come to fruition, of course – there are still false starts and abortive attempts at flight; but I seem to have a better sense now of when to bail out, before the faltering contraption has flown too high or gone into a vicious tailspin.

But I’m thinking here, not of the things that end in disaster, but of those that live out their natural lives – including our own lives, if we are fortunate. Apart from consulting an oracle such as the I Ching, how DO we know when the Dao of a project, or a relationship, or a phase of our life, is drawing in?

This all reminds me of my old border collie, Hermine, who lived her entire life in the fast lane, chasing both cars and sheep, rounding up the family (her concept of family was generously inclusive), and noisily warning away intruders, which to her mind included anyone who walked down our road. She was twelve when my friend Jill, the veterinary acupuncturist, diagnosed heart failure. Hermine was definitely a Type A personality.

With the help of some expensive pharmaceuticals, she lived for another two years, during which time she demonstrated the art of taking one’s leave of life consciously, gracefully, and with great style. While I wouldn’t presume to claim to know what went on in her doggy mind, it was obvious to me that she was (a) completing unfinished business, and (b) making a gradual transition into the Other World. For example, two activities in which she had never indulged while in her prime – swimming and sex – were both accomplished in her last few months, the latter involving the shameless seduction of an 11-month-old terrier.

But she also became dreamy, wandering out into the garden at midnight and gazing at the stars. It sure looked to me like she was hauling in her anchor on this life, and setting her sails for a night journey. She gave no indication of being in the least perturbed by the prospect.

Part of the ability to sense closings must involve a willingness to experience them. It seems to be a natural human tendency to favour the yang over the yin. We place greater value on beginnings than on endings, which isn’t surprising. In the Chinese wu xing (five phase) system, the Wood phase equates to Spring, the beginning of the year, full of hope; its associated emotion is Anger, or perhaps more properly Assertiveness – the burst of energy it takes to overcome obstacles, including inertia. The Fire phase, which is evident in the Summer and the flourishing of things, is associated with the emotion of Joy. But the Metal phase, embodied in the Autumn, when life draws in, and those parts which are not essential to the continuation of life decay, is associated with a sense of loss, and the emotion of Sadness.

Who amongst us wouldn’t prefer the experience of Joy to that of Sadness?

But there is a difference between the kind of Sadness that nourishes our souls, and the pain of Grief.

In the wu xing model, the spiritual quality that is developed in the Metal phase is a deepening of appreciation for that which has been (and can be) lost, and an enhanced awareness of the transience – and thus the preciousness – of all life.

That awareness is one aspect of Autumn's bounty, a nourishment of the soul.