Writing On Fallen Leaves

Microseason No. 41, August 28-September 1

Those who appreciate the microseasons are often choosing a simple Poetic Life.

This time of year, I always yearn for something mysterious, beautiful— and a little strange. In that vein, let me show you an autumnal writing practice that I’ve been doing for the past few years.

Did you know that you can write on fallen leaves?

It’s easy to do. Just pick up leaves that are freshly fallen, pat them dry, and write with a very wet pen using a small nib. It doesn’t have to be a fancy pen. I made these using an ultra fine point Sharpie.

Note: You’ll want to press very lightly when writing, as not to tear the delicate surface.

You can make anything you want.

How about notes for your amazing notebook (like Jillian), a poem (like 26th Ave. Poet), a birthday card, a love note, a haiku (like Jason), a tiny portrait sketch like the ones Nishant makes, a fall recipe, a prayer, or a special quote (like Sue).

Anything you want!

You might ask: Couldn’t I just use a stylus pen to “write” on a digital photo of a leaf? Sure you can. But if you persist and write on real leaves with a real pen, you can press them and paste them into your nerdy Microseasons Sketchbook, tucked away as a relic in your attic for your curious descendants to find.

Or! You can let them dry and curl up like this…

Walking in nature is a hyper-real experience.

My hike is not merely a chain of simple objective events, because it’s colored by the emotional and perceptual quirks of my own particular brain. There’s always an inner context and conversation that accompanies everything I do.

You might say that the world always extends beyond the physical realm.

Every artist is simply trying to make that inner experience visible to others.

As Steven Pressfield says: Our art is making something that’s “Realer than real.”

So maybe you’ll want to try something playful to shake things up for your creative practice this fall?

I hope you’ll be kind and loving to yourself as you experiment.

And for now I’ll “leave” you with a poem that I love for this microseason.

Autumn

by Rainer Maria Rilke, translation by Robert Bly

The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,
as if orchards were dying high in space.
Each leaf falls as if it were motioning "no."

And tonight the heavy earth is falling
away from all other stars in the loneliness.

We're all falling. This hand here is falling.
And look at the other one. It's in them all.

And yet there is Someone, whose hands
infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.

I’ll see you in the next microseason,

Ann