The air turned sometime last week; the permeating fragrance of fall and the less oppressive heat has descended leaving the glorious days of summer a vivid yet fading memory. The evenings are cool, a sweater is required, the glowing flicker of a fire's flame warms the crisp air, and socks are on the required list.
I love the anticipation of a new season, autumn especially; it holds unknown in its unfurled palm and thrusts it upon us whether we are prepared or not. It is a rare time when change is embraced and wrapped up in soft scarves, new shoes and the reintroduction of many favourites.
It also reminds us that seasons are short, and summer is often the shortest season experienced in my corner of the world, it reminds me to be thankful for what I've been given, what I have to anticipate and all that I am surrounded by.
Autumn in many ways causes us to slow down. There is the start up of school and all the programs that revolve around that calendar year that add to the busy-buzz, but there is also a return to the schedule, which eases and turns my mind to a frenzied state in equal measure. It is also a time when new people become fast friends. This is often challenging for me as I would much prefer to hide in my little nook at home, curled up with a book and a cup of steaming tea, lost in my imagination, but I am also encouraged by moments of giving. I often forget that when I haul myself out of my cocooning world I learn; and learning is one of my favourite things.
People flow in and out of your life, often regrettably, as easily as passing through a revolving door. Other times you are lucky enough to grow something permanent. It is in those moments of quick passing that I love to open my mind and my heart to absorb all that I can, and funny enough, when I open my head enough to soak it all up, I come out all the better for it in the end.
There is so much to learn by the simple offering of conversation and it is in those unguarded moments that so much becomes clear to me. Strangers have a gift of being painfully honest more often than many of your closest friend and seem to draw the same from you. There is no concern for raising offence and there is seemingly no responsibility for the questions, emotions, and uncertainties that are raised and stirred into a flurry.
I've been accused, or if you'd prefer to think of it as crowned, as being the queen of superficial relationships. At first I took great and painful offence at this accusation, but now I think this is funny, because those conversations may be brief and I may never have occasion to speak with said person again, but I feel our conversation was more honest, more deeply revealing and of more consequence than many of my more frequent interactions, plus I engaged fully, lending a piece of myself, and I truly cared (which, to my mind, automatically erases the superficial title to my crown).
Have I lost you? Perhaps I have, and that's okay, this is all just something that often pops into my overactive, introverted mind. I know why I feel this way as I've had oodles and hoards of time to contemplate this title I've been given. I guess I'm writing this to remind myself of its importance and to encourage myself, and any of you out there who feel the same, to get out of that chair in the safe corner that houses my books and my cup of tea and push myself to be vulnerable, to be real and to share what I have to offer.
A new season is upon us, and perhaps its time to get out there and force its newness on ourselves! Perhaps it's just time to find a new pair of socks and keep trodding along. Wherever you are, whatever state of circumstance, and whatever place you find yourself, I wish you a beautiful season of change.