…times we fall through
moldy, scratchy thatch
to stiff, pine planks,
losing memory, stones
and sonnets. forgetting.
—
There is a strange emptiness I often feel at the first day of cool stillness in Fall. Today is overcast. The wet air leaches warmth, persistent in its chill. Persistent and immobile. It is here to stay, moving in. Memories of languid, long, endless Summer days float just beyond reach. The reality of suffering in the South is no dream, however. Their’s is aching, palpable emptiness, loss. They have no luxury of daydreams.
Yet this calm chill comforts me, reminds me all things change. It is time to recharge, request a new sheet, a clean slate. Time to move on, shift gears. Let Summer memories become the dreams they now are. Let tragedy’s lessons sink in, brand their mark on memory.
The garden outside my window is still rich with green textures. The long, fragrant, golden trumpets of Brugmansia herald (and hope for) a few more sunny weeks to come. All is not lost. But never the same.
At work I am having to work closely with those in power and money, the trustees who support my orchestra, but also control it. I used to assume they were automatically corrupted by their power, but I’m beginning to see their genuine interest in my art, in the success of my orchestra, even though I may not always agree with them. They know things about money and success I cannot know from my position. They have experience we can use. Our orchestra needs them, whether we like it or not. It’s never black and white.
Thinking of events in the world, in the US, my country, I feel frisky with a new kind of hope. The suffering of millions in the South will not be in vain. Our eyes are open. We see the chilly, calculating responses of our current administration, which seems to be more of a power machine than human leadership. And we also see the fervent, human response, the support given by millions; human responses, neither conservative nor liberal, just human. We see each other’s hearts, that we are not so different as we thought. We see where we could go if we came together to solve problems.
Our enemies are not each other. They are the power systems which corrupt and mislead. We cannot afford to be mislead. We only have each other. We only have each other and one small planet.
The chilly air settles into my bones. It’s time for action, for change. Especially since I’m late for work.
Hopes for a better future. Sometimes the only way to learn is through failing. Sad, but it applies to all facets of life, big and small events.
Wonderful words on the entry into Fall. The snow will be approaching soon 🙂 As much as I might complain I LOVE my four seasons.
Very good fabric and weave you create.
I started to write something else but it grew and grew (as does this) so I realized it was probably best as a post, rather than a comment.. … the gist I started with- being this particular change of season is having a much different interaction with my psyche than those past.
I certainly hope that eyes previously closed, are now opened at least a bit to the dangers of blindly following anyone and specifically to this current administration.
“Our enemies are not each other.” Working together in an inclusive way, even all sides compromising on areas that contain too much disagreement, rather than dividing into separate warring factions, is a much better way to live with each other and walk forward together into the future. “We only have each other and one small planet.”
It comes down to trust. We are all delicate in some way or other. Personal interaction is the foundation of society. The question I ask myself all day long is: Do I grant this person the benefit of the doubt? In other words, do I trust this person?
I am not naive, but I know that unless I give my trust, there’s no way to earn theirs. Whether it’s a board member of my symphony or a conservative neocon. Not blind trust, but faith in their deeper humanity.
Garnet,
It’s so lovely to hear so much hope and energy in your post. My heart fills up with smiling. Of course I live in the city now and must wish for your garden to nurture me. Thanks for the smile.
Liz
This is so true Garnet… Three little words I live by; trust, respect and permission… This may not make sense to some, but it is everything to me…
What a beautiful true way to describe fall and the passing of summer, the functions of necessary, though sometimes conflicting factions, and humanity at its finest. Thank you.