It's been a quiet weekend...uneventful, but relaxing. Today we've been having beautiful Indian summer weather, and earlier I took a brisk walk through the neighborhood, soaking in the warm rays of the sun.
Lately, for some reason, I've been feeling rather off. I don't know if the word 'depressed' would apply, but it's a definite feeling of sadness and anxiety that comes and goes. Most of my life I've dealt with depression and PTSD, but over the years I've learned healthy ways to cope with those feelings when they crop up. Plus, for the most part, things have been going well in that respect...so it's a bit of a disappointment to feel like this again. Rather like a chronic pain that has cropped up yet again.
It's hard to write out exactly how I feel. It feels like a sense of loss, although I'm not sure what I've lost. Maybe it's because our sons are getting older (now 21 and 19) and I'm experiencing that empty nest phase, even though our youngest still lives at home. Maybe it's because of the gnawing loneliness that comes over me at times. The type of loneliness that has nothing to do with lack of friends, or being alone. It's more a sense of not belonging...of people not truly understanding me...of not really fitting in. I know that type of loneliness is a rather universal feeling...but still, when I'm in the grips of it, it can be terrifying. At times, usually at night when the house is quiet, I'll feel an overwhelming sense of anxiety. Or, I'll lie in bed unable to sleep and feel such a deep sadness I'll cry into my pillow. For some reason I feel silly even admitting this. Here I am a grown woman in my forties (my ego says). I should have it all together by now. Yeah...right.
I've longed to talk about these feelings with someone I know, but the timing is just not right. A good friend of mine is already dealing with her own stress, and my husband...bless his heart...would most likely get stressed and look about for a way to "fix" it. But I'm not looking for answers or solutions. When those feelings of the sad, lonely and abandoned child come up, I just want someone to hold me and tell me everything will be alright. So instead, I'll go outside and look at the beauty of nature. I'll breath in the clear air, and my spirit will feel about for its connection with life and the universe...like roots seeking out water. I know I'm part of this beautiful creation...that I belong, just as we all do. But still, sometimes it's very hard. And it hurts.
For as long as I can remember, I've loved the changing of seasons. Which is interesting, because I spent over 20 years living in virtually season-less southern California. Or maybe that's why I appreciate seasonal changes so much...and even after living here in the northwest for over 18 years, I haven't grow tired of them.
Yesterday was the first day of autumn, but there have already been subtle signs of autumn showing up over the past few weeks. Besides the shorter daylight hours, some of the neighborhood maple trees are showing a slight change in the color of their leaves. A slight, golden haze that seems to hover around their leafy branches. Every morning now, huge gatherings of birds, such as robins, red-wing black birds, waxwings and sparrows, drape the branches of the towering spruce and pines. It's as if they're holding some type of meeting or convention, before they take off on their journey of migration. The aspen trees in our backyard are also beginning to show a haze of gold in their leaves, which makes me feel a stab of sadness on occasion. Kobe, our sweet, angel of a dog died in March, just as the leaves on those trees were beginning to bud. Now, here it is September already...but I'll write about that another time.
More than the changes of light, color and temperature, there is a deeper change that I feel each autumn. A strange mix of centered calm, mixed with a thrill of anticipation. Like the Earth's creatures I tend to nest and prepare when Autumn arrives. I've been doing a little deep cleaning and organizing around the house, packing away some of our summer clothing, and thinking about the holiday gifts I want to make. And here it seems like we were just setting off firecrackers on a hot, Fourth of July night. Wow, where does the time go?
There are times in life when I forget where I came from. Not where I was born or the houses I grew up in, but the place I feel at a deeply visceral level...the place that is my spirit. I know that I have forgotten when things begin to flatten out, time becomes merely linear, thought takes on a mundane quality completely lacking in transcendence.
The times when my mind takes on a hyper-vigilance, when I worry whether my opinion matters to others or second-guess everything I say...I know I have forgotten. Those are the times I go outside and feel the depth of the earth beneath my feet.
When I find myself becoming too hung up on details or reaching toward some impossible perfection, I know I have forgotten. So I go outside and look at the random, jumbled beauty of nature.
When I become filled with regrets, self-recriminations or self-loathing I step into the soothing balm of sunlight and listen to soft-spoken words within a breeze, because again...I have forgotten.
Those are the times I forget that place of beginning...and so I step back to the source, the wisdom, the Mother. I remember the knowledge held within the texture of tree trunk, the joy that flows in patterns of dancing sunlight, the grace of a turning leaf, the nurturing touch of rain and the wide open possibilities of morning sky.
I step into the Being place of nature and I remember
where I came from.
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