Closing summer's door

The door of my office can’t be open in the mornings anymore. At least not this morning. It’s much too cold. Fall is laced in the air. We all talk about the seasons changing when they change. Is there another name for the inbetween, the actual change of a season – other than solstice? Or perhaps that’s the only word we’ve come up with. Maybe I could think of more if I stopped to think of more.

I feel we are more like the earth than we think we are. We have the same noses, the same rising and fallings. We tide and shift constantly. Our bones quake, her earth quakes. And when she is upset at the very core of her, we feel it. She lets us know. We call them natural disasters because so much life can be lost, because she has the power to destroy so much. But I don’t believe her intention is to hurt us. We are her ants digging holes. We are children and takers and needy upon her. We hardly tell her “you’re earrings look nice today,” “I like that color on you.” I’d be pissed too and tired. And as I’ve read on another blog recently in such times we need to embrace her. Not turn her away and be angry with her, but we need to hold her and stroke her hair and tell her we love her anyway. it’s what we would all want after such shakings isn’t it? Comfort from what we love.

I hope to speak to her, or to something next week. I’m floating the colorado river with family. I haven’t been able to be quiet with her for that long in so long. I’m hoping to hear her next to me in the river as I fall asleep. I’m hoping to sit with her in the mornings and watch her fog lift. I’m hoping to be still and moving at the same time. It’s where I think best – in a place I can be still and moving.

Meanwhile my cat opens all closed doors. She claws at the office door that’s been open to her for so many months. “It’s cold out,” I tell her. But I know exactly how she feels. I don’t like closed doors either.

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