Issue No. 27

It is fall in South Korea. The melodies of the distant past climb into my mind as usual. But this time, it is in the movement of falling leaves. The simple nature of gravity pulling the once-living leaf to the ground speaks to me in a deeper sense. Life is just the passing of season after season; a cycle that never ends. On its own, it has no meaning. But to us, it is everything.

When I look at the falling leaf, it tells me that one day, the twig supporting my breath will soon crumble, and I, too, have to succumb to the merciless nature of dying. What happens next is not my concern. However, I know that those that were once part of my body will return to the ground; to be recycled and reused in the next generations of wanderers.

It is fascinating to ruminate on how atoms rarely ever change at the sub-atomic level. Maybe one of the carbon atoms in your body right now was once part of a bread eaten by the Emperor of Rome two thousand years ago, or before that, a billion years ago, it supported the backbone of the DNA of the first animals that ventured onto land. Or five billion years ago, it was in the crucible that cooked the atoms that would soon give birth to our Sun. One single atom falls into different places and locations in the universe. Just like a leaf falling to the ground.

The Japanese and Chinese people have a term for this specific scene of fallen leaves—落葉(pronounced “luò yè” or “rakuyou” in Mandarin and Japanese respectively). One might wonder why they have a word for that. Perhaps one person sat on a warm morning and decided that leaves that had fallen onto the ground presented him a gift of appreciation for what is, not what was or what will be. One that needed a name so that its wisdom could be passed on.

The Japanese and Chinese people have several words that capture the spirit and emotions of nature because their cultures have a deep connection to nature. For instance, in Shinto, the traditional Japanese religion, nature is sacred and deeply respected. The Japanese have a profound appreciation for the changing seasons, the cycle of life and death, and the beauty of the natural world.

This speaks to me on many levels because we rarely think of our lives as a finite experience. In our heads, tomorrow will always be there. Because of this delusion, we postpone a lot of important things in our lives. It’s procrastination on an existential level, one that we won’t be able to recover from when it ends. To a terminally ill patient, tomorrow is a luxury and today is a gift. There’s only one thing on their mind—living for another day. If you think about it carefully, we are just following the cycle of birth and death starting with our ancestors. In 100 years or so, all of us alive on this planet today, including children being born at this moment, will be buried in the ground. Eight billion of us. What you do with the time you’re given suddenly becomes more immediate and concerning.

You don’t have to worry or hurry, but at least have a plan. Plan the next 5 to 10 years. What do you want to achieve? What does it look like? Where do you want to be? Ask the important questions now. We are getting old every year, and each year time seems to pass by faster. I have met many people who are undeniably happy in their old age, but also, I have met the opposite—those who have regretted a lot. I don’t want to be that person. I want to know that I have maximized my youth. If there’s something that scares me, it’s not death. It’s the regret that I have not utilized my resources properly to live a good life.

Nature presents us with an interactive experience to understand itself while at the same time understanding the root of our consciousness and life. A simple rock can teach us the age of our planet as it has recorded the history of our species. A tiny ant teaches us humility in living with others. Sunset and sunrise teach us that every day is an opportunity to begin and rest. A fallen leaf provides us the opportunity to reevaluate our purpose and what we are supposed to do in the moment of falling so that when we hit the ground, we know we are in the right place and at the right time. It is fall, and the leaves are dancing in delight, just as life will soon meet the night.