There will be posts to come about the summer that seems already a dream on this grey day of thunderstorms and autumn reminders. There will be musings about the difference between the way sunshine feels in a rainforest, a desert, a mountaintop, a river valley. There will be great stories of tiny happenings and mere whispers of life changing events. There will be balance and there will be delightful amounts of rampant insanity.
But today is not that day. I’ve postponed writing something because while I wanted to comment in some way or another after every single festival and happening and gigglefest I was fortunate enough to be a part of the last few months, I was too busy being in it to catalogue the experience. Fall and winter are the times of reflection, when we have the space to look at what grew and bloomed and what withered and receeded to find a fit somewhere else, as something else.
Fall is a good time for decompression, with it’s colour and spice urging us that now is the time to prepare ourselves for the dark to come. And ready myself I will and more to come here as moments present. I forget that it doesn’t have to be epic, every single time.
It really really doesn’t. There is as much truth and beauty in a simple gesture as a grand one, sometimes more. Because it doesn’t demand attention, doesn’t require much more than an inhale and an exhale.
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