Still more that are loosening, falling, as if some reckoning has been sent about to all- the scurrying, preparing Chipmunks, the pairing-up mates of Broad-wing Hawk and Harrier and the intermittent Eagle- spiraling together in some sort of 'Shall we stay, or go?' conversation, as the days and nights grow cooler and the light begins to sway away from us all. Our immune systems and vestibular systems taking note, responding with all the exquisite abilities they have to adapt to what needs adapting.And here within come the dark cold times of restoration. Of keeping warm, with our soft woolens and warm socks; and soups and broths and steaming stews, hot teas and miso, with warmth that seeps deep into our gut, our kidneys, our liver, our extremities, with delight; that nourish and temper and subdue.
Early evenings to replace giddy late summer dusk; still, the going out of doors to greet the day and register the changes, and above all, remain a part of the cycles that shall move through us, with us, or past us. Depending on our choice and awareness and predilection for , eyes open, engaging in that irretrievable sense of a found moment. Turning away from living our lives too busy and taken up, so that we lose. A moment. A lost day or week. A relationship.And wake, shaken, to find ourselves far far down our road.
As the seasons cycle through, interminably, with our small selves here, just for our walk-on bit part, so that each of our season of life- whatever yours or mine might be, is here for for it's embrace. For arm-in-arm walking through the wet rainy day, the wind swept woods; knowing deeply those who matter, right now, in the important time, this moment.
And then knowing our selves; not losing track, nor waking with that heart rending communique- of disconnect. No; far better to remain in pace with the season and the time of life and those we choose to know, and our own honorable movements through our days.
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