Changing Places

No One But Us
by Annie Dillard

There is no one but us.
There is no one to send,
Nor a clean hand,
Nor a pure heart
On the face of the earth,
Nor in the earth
But only us,
A generation comforting ourselves
With the notion
That we have come at an awkward time,
That our innocent fathers are all dead –
As if innocence has ever been –
And our children busy and troubled,
And we ourselves unfit, not yet ready,
Having each of us chosen wrongly,
Made a false start, failed,
Yielded to impulse
And the tangled comfort of pleasures,
And grown exhausted,
Unable to seek the thread,
Weak, and involved.
But there is no one but us.
There never has been.

From the book Holy the Firm by Annie Dillard

You know who you are…. happy birthday!

Love’s End

Though many years have passed since last we met,
Thoughts of thee can make me smile most gladly;
While parting left us echoes of regret,
Golden haze lights love that ended badly.
Time cannot change true feelings of the past,
Nor distance dim the brightest fire’s glow;
Yet love doth change and is not meant to last,
And lovers minds cannot the future know.
There lives a part of me inside of thee,
And part of thee resides within my breast;
The better part of us remains most free,
To love another, better-suited guest.
I would not change what passed between our hearts,
But love is ended when the lover parts.

Diamond Girl
(Lyrics by James Seals; music by James Seals & Dash Crofts, 1973)

Diamond Girl, you sure do shine. Glad I found you, glad you’re mine.
Oh my love, you’re like a precious stone, part of earth where heaven has rained on.
Makes no difference where you are. Day or nighttime, you’re like a shinin’ star.
And how could I shine without you, when it’s about you that I am?

Diamond Girl, roamin’ wild. Such a rare thing, radiant child.
I could never find, another one like you. Part of me is deep down inside you.
Can’t you feel the whole world a-turnin’. We are real, and we are a-burnin’.
Diamond Girl, now that I’ve found you, it’s about you that I am.

Diamond Girl, you sure do shine. Diamond Girl, you sure do shine.
Diamond Girl, you sure do shine. Diamond Girl, you sure do shine…

We May Never Pass This Way (Again)
(Lyrics by James Seals; music by James Seals & Dash Crofts, 1973)

Life, so they say, is but a game and we let it slip away.
Love, like the Autumn sun, should be dyin’ but it’s only just begun.
Like the twilight in the road up ahead, they don’t see just where we’re goin’.
And all the secrets in the Universe, whisper in our ears
And all the years will come and go, take us up, always up.
We may never pass this way again. We may never pass this way again.
We may never pass this way again.

Dreams, so they say, are for the fools and they let ‘em drift away.
Peace, like the silent dove, should be flyin’ but it’s only just begun.
Like Columbus in the olden days, we must gather all our courage.
Sail our ships out on the open sea. Cast away our fears
And all the years will come and go, and take us up, always up.
We may never pass this way again…

So, I wanna laugh while the laughin’ is easy. I wanna cry if it makes it worthwhile.
We may never pass this way again, that’s why I want it with you.
‘Cause, you make me feel like I’m more than a friend. Like I’m the journey and you’re the journey’s end.
We may never pass this way again, that’s why I want it with you, baby…

“Natural objects — living things in particular — are like a language we can only faintly remember. It is as if creation had been dismembered sometime in the past and all things are limbs we have lost that will make us whole if we can only recall them…. the reception of objects reveals that the gifted self is a thing that breathes. Their entrance is itself the lesson. We are not sealed in clacium like the clam. Identity is neither “yours” nor “mine”, but comes of a communion with the world. “Ever atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”… Identity is specific, sexed, time-bound, mortal. It is drawn together and then dispersed. The self is more enduring… the self takes on identity through its reception of objects — be they perceived lilac leaves or the atoms of the physical body — and the self gives up identity as it abandons these objects. It is the process (the breathing) or the container (the lung) in which the process occurs. ”

“… there is a middle phase in the process of the gifted self: between sympathy and pride, between the reception and the bestowal, lies a moment in which new identity comes to life as old identity perishes…. Old identity breaks to receive the new. The new may simply replace the old or.. old identity may fuse with the outer object, a marriage, a new flesh…”

“The self that identifies with a cycle of gifts takes its own activity as its identity — not the reception of objects, not the bestowal of particular contents, but the entire process, the respiration, the give-and-take of sympathy and pride…”

“The self becomes gifted when it identifies with a commerce of gifts and the gifted self is prolific. In nature the Osiris-force is the resurrection of the wheat; in a commerce of gifts it is the increase; in the gifted self it is creativity, and for a poet, in particular, it is original speech.”

– Lewis Hyde, The Gift

Sensing the changes impending
My thoughts are diffused by despair
I feel like I’m swimming straight up
Underwater
Desperately racing for air
I’m racing for air.

And the chords struck at birth
Grow more distant
Yet, we strike them again and again.
And we plead and we pray
For a glimmer of day
As the night folds its wings
And descends
Exposing the loose ends….
– Dan Fogelberg, Loose Ends

Winners never know the worth of losing
‘Til the prize has slipped right through
their hands
Love will take a heart of its own
choosing
And break it if you try to understand.

– Dan Fogelberg, Love Gone By

Once in a vision
I came on some woods
And stood at a fork in the road
My choices were clear
Yet I froze with the fear
Of not knowing which way to go
One road was simple
Acceptance of life
The other road offered sweet peace
When I made my decision
My vision became my release.

– Dan Fogelberg, Netherlands

Why then, have to be human?
Oh not because happiness exists,
Not out of curiosity…
But because being here means so much;
because everything here,
vanishing so quickly, seems to need us,
and strangely keeps calling to us… To have been
here, once, completely, even if only once,
to have been at one with the earth –
this is beyond undoing.

– Rainer Maria Rilke

“It is only through letting our heart break that we discover something unexpected: The heart cannot actually break, it can only break open … To live with a broken-open heart is to experience life full strength … When the heart breaks open, it marks the beginning of a real love affair with this world. It is a broken-hearted love affair, rather than the conventional kind based on hope and expectation. Only in this fearless love that can respond to life’s pain as well as its beauty can we be of real help to ourselves or anyone else in this difficult age. The broken-hearted warrior is an essential archetype for our time.”

“We set out on a path that is continually surprising — learning to be ourselves, yet also more than ourselves. As Zen master Shunryu Suzuki points out, “When you are yourself, just yourself, through and through, you are the universe. You are not this conditioned person anymore.” Then, though we may dedicate ourselves to helping this world, our well-being will not depend on the outcome. For we are becoming one with that force in the universe that is forever creating itself anew.” — John Welwood, Love and Awakening

“The soul that rises within us,
our life’s star,
cometh from afar
and hath elsewhere its setting.”

– Wordsworth

As hard as Krista’s work is, I’m glad she is so devoted to it. We need more Kristas in this world….

Experiencing psychosis is a difficult thing, recovering from it even more so. But finding those people willing to stick by you during it, even those willing to walk into your life at that point - that’s just so special. Thanks, Krista, for all you do. I hope you can stay strong with all you are going through.

The Silent K » Blog Archive » the corner in which the ultimate mystery of things…

For those of you who aren’t familiar, psychosis is an experience that people have where they see and/or hear things that other people do not, and have unusual beliefs that other people don’t hold. Essentially it is a chasm between internal reality and shared commonly accepted reality.

There are times where it seems the families accessing our services are deepened and transformed by the experiences of distress and healing that are happening to themselves and their respective relatives. It is beautiful, moving, and humbling to see families on this road supporting someone, and learning and growing themselves in the process. This job blows my mind everyday. When I decided to take this job on I am not sure I recognized the major life shift it would cause in me, in my personhood, in my outlook on life.

I worked in mental health before too, but it was a different, lighter job in many ways. My heart didn’t hurt as much working there.

In this job, I feel infused with spirit, and deeply connected to the work with such intensity that it creates a very real vicarious ache. The work creates fertile ground for my spiritual practice, but as awe-inspiring it can be, lately it has left me feeling extremely emotionally spent.

There are times when the theoretical/philosophical aspect of the work enraptures me so completely. It feels like my mind is a magnetic sponge absorbing, retaining, and reverberating the vast knowledge and experiences of others who’ve spent their lives studying, writing about, and/or living these unexplainable experiences of the mind.

And mousies!
YouTube - Fish Heads

Fish Heads, fish heads, roly poly fish heads, fish heads, fish heads, eat them up - yum!

Japanese New Year - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Typical nengajō greetings include:

kotoshi mo yoroshiku o-negai-shimasu - 今年もよろしくお願いします - I hope for your favour in the coming year.

akemashite o-medetō-gozaimasu - あけましておめでとうございます - New Year’s congratulations

kinga shinnen - 謹賀新年 - Happy New Year

shoshun - 初春 - literally “early spring”

The New Year traditions are also a part of Japanese poetry, including haiku and renga. All of the traditions above would be appropriate to include in haiku as kigo (season words). There also haiku that celebrate many of the “first” of the New Year, such as the “first sun” (hatsuhi) or “first sunrise”, “first laughter” (waraizome — starting the New Year with a smile is considered a good sign), and first dream (hatsuyume). Since the traditional new year was later in the year than the current date, many of these mention the beginnings of spring.

Along with the New Year’s Day Postcard, haiku might mention “first letter” (hatsudayori — meaning the first exchange of letters), “first calligraphy” (kakizome), and “first brush” (fude hajime).

More good stuff from JustKristin here, on “First Dreams”.

The 1st of September - Jeremiah Pearson Hardy

Try To Remember
by Patti Page

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow
Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow
Try to remember and if you remember
Then follow, follow.

Try to remember when life was so tender
That no one wept except the willow
Try to remember the time of September
When love was an ember about to billow
Try to remember and if you remember
Then follow, follow.

Deep in December It’s nice to remember
Although you know the snow will follow
Deep in December It’s nice to remember
The fire of September that made us mellow
Deep in December our hearts should remember
And follow, follow, follow…

from Wikipedia:

September is the ninth month of the year in the Gregorian Calendar and one of four Gregorian months with 30 days.

September begins in western tropical astrology with the sun in the sign of Virgo and ends in the sign of Libra. Astronomically speaking, the sun actually begins in the constellation of Leo and ends in the constellation of Virgo.

In Latin, septem means “seven”. The origin of the name may also be attributed to Vedic culture. In sanskrit, Sapta refers to “seven” and Ambar means “sky”. “Sapt-Ambar” referred to the seventh sky or month in the Vedic culture. September was also the seventh month of the Roman calendar until 153 BC.

Mideast up in flames
China drowning in monsoons
America broiling

This is one of those weeks I know I’m going to hate even thinking about the news… with our California wildfires and 100 degree temperatures, most of us here are starting the week hot, tired, and irritable (plus I’ve been PMSing like crazy).

At least Comicon is this week, offering some relief. My sister-in-law and her husband will be here, so it should be fun. The kids always really enjoy the convention, and we’ll be seeing the symphony performing music from Lord of the Rings.

We had a wonderful party this weekend with our terrific group of friends, and spent tonight watching some Japanese videos with a couple of them and learning Japanese. We’re into our third session of Japanese classes and finally getting to the point where it’s making more sense and coming a little more easily - except now, we also have to learn the Chinese characters. It seems with any language there is always so much more to learn.

I feel there is nothing I can say to add any understanding at all to the world situation - it is such an insane mess this week. The attacks and escalation in the middle east - Israel, Lebanon, Palestine, and in Iraq, are nauseating and somewhat infuriating, really. Of course the U.S. is a great part of this huge problem, and does nothing to help resolve it. The G8 statement was a complete joke. And our president can do nothing more than make jokes about eating pigs, infuriating both the Jews and Muslims at once - nice job there!

Honestly, it all seems so surreal sometimes, like a really bad Tom Clancy novel. “Beyond credibility”, as he himself said about 9-11. And just when you think it can’t get worse, it does. Every. Damn. Week. Until Bush and his assinine kind are gone, this is what we get.

So hey, let’s enjoy my cute little kitty, Selena, and her affection for my sandals. At least the simple pleasures are still available to us. And let’s enjoy our friends, our family, and the good things in life that can still entertain us and help us to cope. Because it’s all so crazy, and all so out of our control. And hope, pray, meditate, chant, or whatever it is you do to help bring any tiny bit of peace to this world. Take care of yourself, and let’s take care of each other.

Dona nobis pacem - Grant us peace….

Jonathan Coulton » Mandelbrot Set

Pathological monsters! cried the terrified mathematician
Every one of them is a splinter in my eye
I hate the Peano Space and the Koch Curve
I fear the Cantor Ternary Set
And the Sierpinski Gasket makes me want to cry
And a million miles away a butterfly flapped its wings
On a cold November day a man named Benoit Mandelbrot was born

His disdain for pure mathematics and his unique geometrical insights
Left him well equipped to face those demons down
He saw that infinite complexity could be described by simple rules
He used his giant brain to turn the game around
And he looked below the storm and saw a vision in his head
A bulbous pointy form
He picked his pencil up and he wrote his secret down

Take a point called Z in the complex plane
Let Z1 be Z squared plus C
And Z2 is Z1 squared plus C
And Z3 is Z2 squared plus C and so on
If the series of Z’s should always stay
Close to Z and never trend away
That point is in the Mandelbrot Set

Mandelbrot Set you’re a Rorschach Test on fire
You’re a day-glo pterodactyl
You’re a heart-shaped box of springs and wire
You’re one badass fucking fractal
And you’re just in time to save the day
Sweeping all our fears away
You can change the world in a tiny way

Mandelbrot’s in heaven, at least he will be when he’s dead
Right now he’s still alive and teaching math at Yale
He gave us order out of chaos, he gave us hope where there was none
And his geometry succeeds where others fail
If you ever lose your way, a butterfly will flap its wings
From a million miles away, a little miracle will come to take you home

Also be sure to check out Chaotic Utopia’s Friday Fractal.

Coloring is FUN! And some old poems, just for fun. Hey, it’s Friday….

Friendship

To you my friendship,

To you my love and support,

To you my warm touch.

From you your friendship,

From you your feelings and touch,

From you your warm fire.

In us there is fire,

In us there is warmth and love,

In us there is strength.

Across the Distance

Across this river that separates us

I build a bridge to try and reach you,

I cannot stop the river from flowing,

But I can build my bridge safe and strong.

Across the time that spans between us

I tell a story that is timeless,

I cannot turn back the hands of the clock,

But I can make your story endless.

Across this space that divides us

I reach out my hand to hold you.

I cannot close the gap between us,

But I can hold your hand across it.

Across the cold night air between us,

I send my love to try and warm you.

I cannot lift the chill of the evening,

But I can feel your fire across it.

Renewal

Maybe it’s time

To begin anew …

Start a new chapter

Write a new book

Fresh characters

The mists of dreams

What we all seek

Is a new perspective

The different view

That sees everything

fresh, new, exciting

Makes us believe

We can change

We can grow

We are special

Love can do that

Joy can do that

We can do that…

So, tomorrow, start again

In a new space

For a new time

Take what is learned

And make it better.

Emeralds

I found the emeralds I searched for
In the depths of your green eyes
And in your eyes I saw reflected
The movements of the tides

And in the tides I saw the glow

Of life itself as it comes and goes

The spark and fire of all we are

From the earth below to the highest star



I watched the waves as they rose and fell

Knowing always all too well

That time and tide would never wait

We would be washed in the tides of fate



The spark that lingers on the shore

Lives in my heart forever more

Love never dies, it never ends

It lives in the eyes of our dearest friends



I found the emeralds I searched for

In the fires of your green eyes

And in my own you’ll see reflected

The kind of love - that never dies…

Choices

There isn’t black or white

Anymore today,

I suddenly woke up

To a thousand shades of gray.

I’ve lost the either/or,

And now forever more

I will know there is more

I have yet to explore.

I looked into your eyes

And I saw the past

And then I realized

It goes much too fast.

You’re not a child now

I’ll turn around and how

You’ll have grown

And have flown

And I’ll never have known.

I’ve got to find a way

To make this moment stay!

I’ve got to find the time

To really make it mine.

I look behind me and it’s gone

I’ve got to carry on

And find the path

That takes me back…

It’s there in your eyes

It’s such a surprise

To see the world again

As if it were new!

The joy that you show to me

Now you have set me free

And I see that at last

I can reach to the past.

And so I carry on

With the chores today,

But somehow now I know

There is more to say.

I’ll find my voice again

I’ll have a choice again

You have shown my how

I know even now.

That life is what you make it -

The chance is there so take it!

And when you turn around,

Then at last you’ve found

There’s an open door

Into nevermore …

But what you’ve done here

Will not disappear.

This week, in Chapter Seven of the Artist’s Way, “Connections”, Cameron talks about simply overhearing the voice of the creator and dictating what is heard. This reminded me of a poem I wrote back in my poem-writing phase, which I literally simply wrote down as a couple of people were talking one day at the Wild Animal Park. I happened to be journaling and when I overheard this conversation, it played directly into what I was feeling at the time - a friend who was drifitng away from me.

Conversation Overheard

“We grow and evolve,
And move away from things that
Used to captivate us.”

“It’s part of life…”

“I don’t really remember…”
“I don’t really want to know.”

“You’re so far beyond me…”

“Trade offs - “
“So what do you say
We move on…”

So why was this friend so special to me? He was the friend I was writing with, creating with. We used to visit bookstores, and one of the things we did was to make a space on the bookshelves for each other’s work. We would move books out of the way where the other person’s books would go, and imagine ours there.

And he wondered why I fell in love with him…

The day’s amusement from a Nike ad - Talk about your viral advertising, eh? Too bad they ain’t paying me - but they did make me laugh. I put it on the fridge with my “One day big butts will be in style” magnet…

My BUTT is BIG
And round like the letter C
And ten thousand lunges
Have made it Rounder
But not Smaller
And that’s just fine.

It’s a Space Heater
For my side of the bed
It’s my Ambassador
To those who walk behind me
It’s a Border Collie
That herds skinny women
Away from the best deals
At clothing sales.

My butt is big
And that’s just fine
And those who might scorn it
Are invited to kiss it…

Robert Frost (1874–1963)
Fire and Ice

SOME say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Heads up to this spectacular Antartic volcano explosion on Montagu island via Clive Thompson’s collison detection via scietech daily via nature.com.

The Blogging of the President

The poem which gives Japan its alphabetic, or more properly syllabic, order is known as the Iroha, after its first three syllables. The poem is a pangram–it makes use of all of the kana, and uses each one only once.

Iro wa nioedo
Chirinuru o
Wa ga yo tare zo
Tsune naran
Ui no okuyama
Kyō koete
Asaki yume miji
Ei mo sezu.

Translation: As flowers are brilliant but [inevitably] fall, / who could remain constant in our world? [No one could] / Today let us transcend the high mountain of transience, / and there will be no more shallow dreaming, no more drunkenness.

If you are awake
Late enough
You can hear the planes come in
With the bodies
Of the dead
They will not acknowledge
Or let others see
Brought home, in the night…

There Is A Brokenness
by Rashani

There is a brokenness
out of which comes the unbroken,
A shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable.
There is a sorrow
Beyond all grief which leads to joy
And a fragility
Out of which depth emerges strength.
There is a hollow space
Too vast for words
Through which we pass with each loss,
Out of whose darkness we are sanctified into being.
There is a cry deeper than all sound
Whose serrated edges cut the heart
As we break open
To the place inside which is unbreakable
And whole.

“Hope floats . . . We are Unsinkable”

Covington artist Tammi Curtis-Ellis created this vision of New Orleans hope.

From the mailbag, Tammi Curtis-Ellis sends us an image of a painting showing the hope and determination of the New Orleans area.

“I am an artist from Covington, LA. While we had emormous damage to our community, it can not compare to the emotional and physical damage that the people of other areas suffered.

“During the days that I was travelling between my home and my children’s apartment in Baton Rouge, I completed this painting. My main focus was the hope and determination that is such an element of the people of the Gulf Coast.

“That is why I chose the scripture of Jeremiah 29:11 - “For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future”

“Also, the words “Hope floats and We are unsinkable” came to my mind while I was visualizing this painting.

“My heartfelt desire is that I can find a financial backer to supply the money for quality prints of this painting and marketing so that all the sale proceeds can go to Habitat for Humanity and CERF (Craft Emergency Relief Fund), an organization to assist artist in times of disaster.

“So many artist friends of mine from the Gulf Coast have been displaced, some losing everything. We cannot afford to lose the visual interpretation that they bring to the life of the coast. I hope I can be an artist helping artist, but I need assistance myself to make this happen, as my income relied on the New Orleans art market. I ask that this story receive attention and that we find a way to bring our artists home. The painting can also be viewed on the homepage of my website at www.tamiellis.ws. ”

Autumn Wind in Gemstone Trees, Tang Dynasty, China

In late summer, heaven’s breath is damply hot.
It smothers the earth with dullness.
Suddenly, thick clouds gather:
A wave of polar air passes like a frigid rake.
Acorns fall like bullets,
And a new wind breaks through.

When the air is hot and humid, there is a feeling of dullness and stagnation. Everyone is oppressed by lassitude. As the seasons begin changing, fresh air comes from the arctic. Clouds that have been building up begin to dispense rain, and damp air is exchanged for fresh, cool breezes. At night, the heavens are changing so quickly that lightening flashes from colliding clouds, and thunder heralds the revolving of the skies.

The same is true of human life. If the heavens cannot endure stagnation for long, how can stagnation last with us? If we find ourselves blocked and frustrated in life, we must look for the inevitable outlet. Nothing is permanent, so how can our obstacles last? We need to look for the first opportunity to set things moving again.

On the other hand, sometimes stagnation comes from our own laziness or incompetence. In this case, then it is we who must show initiative and stimulate a breakthrough in dull circumstances. As soon as we see a chance, we must act. Unless we engage ourselves and events fully, we cannot expect to act sufficiently.

Deng Ming Tao, 365 Tao

“What you really want for yourself is always trying to break through, just as a cooling breeze flows through an open window on a hot day. Your part is to open the windows of your mind.” — Vernon Howard

“Oh, my God, this amazing cool breeze is coming through my window and the sun is shining. I’m happy.” — Liv Tyler

“O sweet September, the first breezes bring the dry leaf’s rustle and the squirrel’s laughter, the cool fresh air whence health and vigor spring and promise of exceeding joy hereafter.” — George Arnold

“We spend most of our time and energy in a kind of horizontal thinking. We move along the surface of things… but there are times when we stop. We sit sill. We lose ourselves in a pile of leaves or its memory. We listen and breezes from a whole other world begin to whisper.” — James Carroll

“I learned what is obvious to a child. That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals. That a day spent with dreaming and sunsets and refreshing breezes cannot be bettered.” — Nicholas Sparks

I’ve been fighting my obstacles and stagnation for a while now, waiting for this to happen and that to happen, to have time, I tell myself. For what, I don’t really know. But, I have time, I just don’t have motivation. I need to get back to my art, back to my reading projects and writing. Yes, I can open the windows now and feel the cool breezes of autumn beginning to blow, feel how refreshingly cool and crisp the air is becoming. And it is energizing, to some extent. I still seem stuck in my laziness, though, my tiredness. The mundane tasks of life get done, but not much else, nothing really grand or wonderful. But then, I have to come back to the Zen saying:

“Before enlightenment - eat rice, clean bowl.
After enlightenment - eat rice, clean bowl.”

Perhaps, like children, we simply need to realize the grand and wonderful in everyday things - the flowers, the animals, the poetry of life, our daydreams, the sunsets and breezes. Is there really anything so much more wonderful than that?

This is a poem I write a few years ago, inspired by my own children:

Choices

There isn’t black or white
Anymore today,
I suddenly woke up
To a thousand shades of gray.
I’ve lost the either/or,
And now forever more
I will know there is more
I have yet to explore.

I looked into your eyes
And I saw the past
And then I realized
It goes much too fast.
You’re not a child now
I’ll turn around and how
You’ll have grown
And have flown
And I’ll never have known.

I’ve got to find a way
To make this moment stay!
I’ve got to find the time
To really make it mine.
I look behind me and it’s gone
I’ve got to carry on
And find the path
That takes me back…

It’s there in your eyes
It’s such a surprise
To see the world again
As if it were new!
The joy that you show to me
Now you have set me free
And I see that at last
I can reach to the past.

And so I carry on
With the chores today,
But somehow now I know
There is more to say.
I’ll find my voice again
I’ll have a choice again
You have shown my how
I know even now.

That life is what you make it -
The chance is there so take it!
And when you turn around,
Then at last you’ve found
There’s an open door
Into nevermore …
But what you’ve done here
Will not disappear.

Monet, Autumn on the Seine

Spring was a time of swaggering declarations.
Reaching autumn, one finds few absolutes.
Life is mystery and ambiguity,
Toward winter, that now seems agreeable and comfortable.

When young, one makes heroic attempts. The world will surely bend to our will, we think, and we will surely make grand contributions. Social injustice will be righted. The big questions will be answered.

I once went to see a master writer. Long retired, white-haired and fragile, she nevertheless evinced a sharp and discerning mind. I was a novice writer. She had edited hundreds of great authors. I peppered her with all my anxieties and asked her all the questions that my teachers never answered. To most of my questions she would only answer, “Yes.” She knew all the answers, and she knew all the exceptions, and she knew the best thing that an older person could tell a younger person was “Yes.” Yes, the affirmative. Yes, as in keep exploring. Yes, as in there are no ultimate answers.

I used to push for an immediate resolution to daily problems. Now, I am not so anxious. Is science right about things, or is religion? Is there good and evil on a metaphysical level? Is there one god, or are there many gods, or no gods? A hundred answers exist for these questions. They are all known, but no one agrees. Today, I think it all very fine. Let there be a hundred answers with none of them entirely correct. The asking of the question is already enough.

Deng Ming Tao, 365 Tao

“We cling to our own point of view, as though everything depended on it. Yet our opinions have no permanence; like autumn and winter, they gradually pass away.”
– Chuang Tzu

For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad. ~Edwin Way Teale

Autumn

Walking outside tonight
Smelling that familiar scent
The one that says, “Autumn”
Thinking of you again,
My old friend.

How many Autumns has it been
Since that beautiful night
We climbed the stairway to the stars
Together for the first time?
A soft kiss joined us…

Ages and ages ago
You’re long gone from me now
We married other lovers
But that familiar scent of Autumn
Always brings you to mind.

– My own Autumn memories….

In San Diego, autumn usually brings a wonderful Indian Summer season that is warm and like a second spring, or even summer if it’s hot enough. I’ve seen 100 degree days in November here. But we do get the lovely cool autumn evenings with their glorious scent that just says so much to me this time of year.

I do think of autumn as a time for sowing as well as harvesting. I am often out planting a fall garden, although this year I think I’ll let things lie fallow for a bit. I may put in a few plants, but the gardening bug just hasn’t been with me this year.

I love the colors of autumn, the deep golds and reds, the light that gives everything sort of a golden glow.

And yes, things are indefinite at this time of my life, as I enter my own personal autumn. There are no ultimate answers, and it is enough to ask the questions. Those who seem too sure of themselves, too sure of their answers and their causes, are the ones who worry me now. The ones who don’t realize that life is full of mystery to explore, full of choices to make and options of different ways of living life to explore, and we will each fulfill them in our own way. Those who want to deny others the privilege of finding their own path by telling them how to live or what to do bother me most of all. They have the right to their own path, of course - but not to direct how others may live.