Although the heat may belie it, September marks the coming of fall, the season of change. I feel it already, as I watched Russell plan his upcoming year at his planning meeting in August, and as I prepare for Grand Lodge later this month, where new Grand Lodge officers will be elected, and the new Grand Masonic year will begin.

I notice it vividly during rituals, as, for the first time in 7 years, I'm able to wear a white apron instead of an officer's apron, and watch the new officers take over for me.

With the symbolic death of my tenure as master rapidly approaching, it makes me contemplative about the lessons I've been able to learn, as well as teach. It also makes me reflect on the symbolic nature of endings and beginnings, and change.

Throughout Masonry, we are presented with ideas on change. First, the change from darkness to light during initiation. Our obligations change us. We are, potentially for the first time in life, held accountable to certain standards, and once made Masons, can never be unmade. The darkness represents our ignorance of our own power, and once illuminated, though we can turn our back on our potential, we can not deny it. Then, the change from an initiate to a fellow of the craft. We change from learner to doer. From student to worker. Youth to man. Although we are all adult men by the time we enter Masonry, emotionally and spiritually, we are often yet undeveloped as people. Even now, in my late 30's I have yet to mature in my career, and my (someday) family life. All the contemplation in the world doesn't bring a child or a successful business into the world. It requires the change from utilizing book knowledge to performing actions in the real world, using the tools and knowledge I've gained to date.

Then, the change to mastery. So many people never even reach this change in so many areas of life. Whence a Mason will change from doer to teacher. Having already created, and now creating other creators. And, only then having made other successful contributors to society, content to reflect upon a well-spent life.

Perhaps this is why so many people fear death, as they have not yet reached a point where feel complete and at ease with what they have accomplished and what they are leaving behind. As I am quickly realizing, the end comes far too quickly when you are not yet content with what you are leaving behind to carry on without you.

Fraternally,

David Sylvester
Master

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