I’m a professional melancholic, and for years my delight in the autumn color show quickly morphed into sadness as I watched the beauty die. Today, as I weather the late autumn of my own life, I find nature a trustworthy guide. The hopeful notion that new life is hidden in dying is surely reinforced by the visual glories of autumn. The hopeful notion that new life is hidden in dying is surely reinforced by the visual glories of autumn. This excerpt from On the Brink of Everything: Grace, Gravity, and Getting Old by Parker J. Palmer is reprinted with permission from Berrett-Koehler Publishers.