Autumn

When sister earth tips that sunhat a little bit askew, in that sorta slanty sexy style onto the side of her head, it sure changes the view and the mood, doesn't it? Inserts a bit of flip and flirt into the mundanities of suburban living.

For two mornings in a row I have begun my day outside, writing morning pages and meditating. Such a small thing, sitting in your little garden, watching the miniscule changes from day to day. The way the dew has still not been diffused from the seats of the two cheap green plastic chairs on the grass, even though it's past 9 am. The slantiness of the sun along the rough wooden palings of your house. The ripe red tomato ready for picking. The tomato bush way overdue for transplanting into the soil, far too root-bound in its pot, leaves dying, needing the deep depths of the soil. Don't we all. The garden bed, awaiting more mulch, more compost, and the seeds that sit on my kitchen counter, ready for planting.

The green of the grass, after all those months of yellow, and the way my eyes just fall into that colour and rest, rest, rest.

How good it is to begin to learn to rest in your own soul. To know the gaze of the Other as love. It heals all wounds, along with time, and displacement. It gives you courage to walk in the dark and see what was too ugly to see before.