Autumn

Although my immune system is keeping itself busy (I decided to acquiesce to a cold on the last day of summer) and my nose is congested, I *feel* the turning of the season, I smell autumn and sense a change in the smallest ways of nature. The wind is cooler and warmer in a style the summer wind never dresses; the elm leaves outside our bedroom (we call her Grandmother Elm), shake and gitter in an altogether different way than any other season.

I love this time of year.

I feel so *alive* and I can only say that it is due to my senses loving what it senses, and the physical associations that I have with this time of year, and the psychic equivalents of "physical" atoms (no such thing as they are just swiftly swirling energy) just explode and ripple within and outward from me.

I am a naturally hot blooded person running at warm temperatures (color me Pitta), so this season feels great on my skin, and I feel more comfortable in this earth suit. I cannot remember any specific thing that happened this time of year as a child which might make me love it, but as an early 20 something, I was living in a most beautiful town at the foot of a mountain in Marin. I rode my bicycle everywhere, it was another appendage as far as I was concerned (and I miss that feeling), and I would coast up and down and all around town, among trees and leaves, so many trees, so many leaves, and in short, I was happy. I felt so free.

Although I am in the city now, tonight is so beautiful, warm and smelling so naturey. The blue fading into dark blue sky is a magic friend who begins to wink to me in stars. I wink back. I silently send my most exuberant thanks and hulloes to the sky and beyond.

I began writing a little moep the other day, it just emerged because I found myself describing to myself mentally how I feel about seasons:

The seasons are prisms
through which All That Is reaveals itself to me
through which I travel
immersed in the ever becoming
divine vitality
knowing itself as Nature on Earth;
a pulsing, exponentially kalidoscopic-dimensionverse
of sense hues and quantum color-tones,
evoking an inherent sometimes forgotten comfort
my seat in the Divine electric psyche-flow
we simply refer to as the universe.
Longings are *something* sensed which language barely implies
connections to aspects of myself which cannot straddle time next to me, yet they ARE.
Message-waves break upon the shores of my consciousness
I feel the gift of a vitality streaming to me
from a source outside of the human constructs of time and space.
Leaves fall. The wind changes direction. The tides shift. I smile and wink.