I woke at 7:22am after sleeping for a solid 8 hours and 55 minutes. That’s the most I’ve slept in months, my average hovering at about 6.5. I feel great. Not just good, but great. Well, well now.
Despite a few bumps, August was a success. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, tip-toes, tipping over into September. A few days ago I said “I hate mums”, which is harsh. I dislike mums but I can’t hold it against them that they are the signature fall flower that pairs best with pumpkins and nights getting longer and first frosts. Its a terrible job, but some flowers got to do it.
I can’t remember if I’ve always disliked fall or if this is a relatively new development. Have orange and moon white and deep purple and maroon been stained by the September’s and October’s that have scarred my past lives? And why do I remember falling apart in Fall instead of falling in love?
I did that. A whole section of one of those lives titled “August and Everything After”, because I really believed at the time that it was finally my very own happy ever after that would last for the rest of my life. I was so head-over-heels in Love. That was 2011. It’s true, I’m not over it, I haven’t “let go”, not completely. Why must we?
I’m here today, standing in the glow of in the best possible light to make a declaration. I still regret mistakes that I’ve made but must also acknowledge that without them, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be somewhere else living a different life and only the Universe knows what that alternate reality looks like. Let us not “let go” ever. Let’s instead hold on to all of it and look back once and a while and just resist staring.
Do we need to reject nostalgia? Is it harmful or very useful? If we dismiss the past how can we learn from those mistakes?
A few days ago I was writing a poem and had a “need” to incorporate something I wrote in about 1989. I went on a hunting expedition and found myself knee deep in memories. Back then everything was hand written so it’s a lot of paper to go through. It makes me very, very grateful for my left brain organizational tendencies. I loved organizing my writing as much as I loved writing it. It’s all sorted and dated and labeled with clever, appropriate titles. I love coming up with titles for things. A few days ago I wrote a whole page that was just potential titles for unwritten poems. I digress.
I found what I was looking for but also found several hand written journals I didn’t know I had. #truth. I flipped through briefly and was like “yup, that was my life”.. back when I was married, not the “August and Everything After” guy, but years before that with my ex-husband. I just looked and didn’t dwell. I put all the collections back in the boxes and back up on the top shelf in my closet.
So that was a life, and that was a different life, and this is a different one too. They are all my lives and that’s life.
The real declaration is that Fall doesn’t have to be the enemy. I don’t have to dread it. I can build a life where fall means we look forward to sweater weather and Wearing boots and sitting by the fire-pit and enjoying looking out across the lawn and seeing the mums bloom, their deep reds and sunset oranges coming to life as the leaves begin to fall. It can be whatever you want, you just have to know what that is.
See you in September..
Peace and Love,
PS.. Here’s the poem I was looking for from one of my former lives (don’t hate, I was like 15 when I wrote it)…
I thought that life was blue
And that mosquito bites were red
But life is green I guess
Because that’s what Stacey said.