Where I live, the transition into autumn is in full force. I see life’s potent energy as summer’s harvest has ripened and decayed. The burst of fall bloom joins us with warm golds and oranges. Mums and monarchs. Pumpkins and sunsets. Fire. Fire. Fire. All of it is with us in the fall -- light, shadow, birth, death, excitement and quiet as we uproot what we harvested, and nurture the start of what we plant during this season.
I notice the correlation between my energy and the energy of the seasons. After an active period of incredible growth and learning, the pull of inspiration is luring me into an insular creative process; concurrently I long for the comfort of family and the company of community. These conflicting drives are a natural part of being complex. The pull will resolve in the time in takes to discern the where and how of the next focus.
In order to hold the paradox of fire and water within, I embody my practice. Moving. Resting. Praying. Working. Studying. Noticing. Being. Breathing. Always coming back to the breath as the grounding point; the nexus for connecting with the rhythm of the moment. Anticipating the moment to begin again. As I long as I breathe, that moment will come. Everything alive changes with time.