November is a month, when we can catch up on some reading. We are cleaning up the gardens, raking up our leaves and the neighbors leaves as well. We get a swirl of leaves that dance there way down the street to our driveway. They all seem to gather to dance and fly about, until we have at least twice the amount that our lovely red maple sheds.
Instead of following our life's path, letting ourselves flow in a downstream direction, we seem to insist on turning ourselves around and paddle against the current, struggling to move in a direction other than our own path, and at best we end up sitting still.