(Pardon my blogging absence; I’ll play catch-up the next couple of days.)
The temperature dropped throughout the day, and the skies grayed more deeply until finally it rained, softly at first, now steadily. Today is a day to wax poetic . . . to sip tea before a fire, completely engrossed in a fantasy novel, whatever your fantasy might be, or to sit and gaze out an open window, feeling the wind carrying your mind and soul above and beyond where you ever thought you could go.
But me, I’ll visit with friends, catch up on e-mail, stop by the post-office, eat leftover chili and pick and choose which tasks need to be done first. How does that make today different from any other day?
The air feels more like fall today. The maples are getting particularly vibrant, and I feel that soulful restlessness. I must create. I must live vibrantly. Do the ordinary tasks if I must, but the yearning for something different won’t subside. That may be why when my son “had to go pee!” I pulled into our favorite park, let him use the restroom and then agreed to let them play at the castle for a few minutes. We followed each other round and round the rock “castle” in the mystical, forceful air.
Perhaps I will wax poetic this evening and focus on writing or knitting or something besides household chores. As a fall baby myself (and as I’ve mentioned before), I feel more aligned in the fall, like I’m where I’m supposed to be. It’s okay to wonder, to question. I believe that’s how we make soulful discoveries and find new paths, new ways to do things if not new things to do. Perhaps my intuition speaks more loudly this time of year, or I listen more deeply.
Maybe the wind was blowing so hard today to wake me up, to clear my mind. Stir my soul, o God, that I may be in perpetual motion and perfect ease within your Will, and thank you for this dreary day.