“the present form of this world is passing away”
That line of St. Paul’s is a snippet from 1 Corinthians 7, where it’s tucked into a discussion of marriage. We could go into all manner of discussion here. We could talk about some grand issues: detachment, rejection of transitory and ephemeral things—and besides that—not counting on your spouse (or anyone else) to give you the whole world!
What we can say is that new life emerges, even as the appearances fade away.
More than any other, autumn is the season of “thin places.” The living and inter-living come together. Breaths of fresh air sweep away the stifling haze of summer. The not-yet chill of winter, by measures, makes its presence felt. Leaves are dancing while shadows are stretching.
The present forms, the shapes and arrays, obey the annual call to pass away. Vigor and vitality seemingly yield to death and decay, but the earth is simply calling a timeout. “I need to take a nap!”
The present form of this world is passing away.
Boundaries become blurred.
[The image is from www.byronjorjorian.com/gallery/Leaf%20Collection/82107_24.jpg]