October soul

Ah how I love this time of the year!  How I love the slow and calibrated passage of time and the scent of ripe fruit on trees and vines.

 

I spend my hours going out and coming in—drinking in all the beauty of the season, every glory ripening to autumnal melodies and to the mellow sunshine of October…

I fill each bird station and marveled at birds. Do they have enough? What a joy that You, oh precious Father do not see as man sees and that your measuring is perfect. 

There’s a feel of desolation and beauty on everything, and this melancholy that’s felt in the atmosphere has its own voice—it satisfies and fills the deepest parts of one’s soul—effortlessly and beautifully.  

The quality of the light is pure magic, unpolluted purity and mellowness that calms and intrigues the soul, and I want to live here; live in the oblong and elliptical leaves of the black-eyed Susan and in the bluish pods growing in the Virginia creeper vines this time of the year… 

 

I want to be a Silvery Checkerspot butterfly, be a bird and sing the song of the Red-winged Blackbird; the dark purple disk florets of late perennials be my home.  I want to be a Paradise rose and attract bees and butterflies and be the main pollinator of autumnal plants. It’s all to do with my heart… you see, this heart cannot be other than the dream of the dreamer and the house of the idealist.

Roses have been frozen in time… perched as they are on bushes gone to sleep, and the beauty of dried petals are infinitively lovelier and dreamier than those of summer roses.  

I am enamored… deep in love with October and with those autumnal days of the month which birthed me…  I could had not come into this world in another month other than in October.  For I am October and October I.  I am its mystery and enchantment the howling wind and empty trees.

Are you an October soul?  I know you are too!

"October, baptize me with leaves! Swaddle me in corduroy and nurse me with split pea soup. October, tuck tiny candy bars in my pockets and carve my smile into a thousand pumpkins. O autumn! O teakettle! O grace!”

Cloud-heart

It’s been known that girls who spend a lot of time in the clouds possesses some sort of a special magic within themselves… and you know how it goes—you can see clouds a thousand miles away, you can hear ancient music in the pines, and sometimes, you can even walk around with the cutest little dragon sitting on your shoulder. Of course, don’t ever let him sit there for more than the necessary you know... for who knows, he may decide to crap all down your back… just saying!  

If you ask me though, this too could make life even more interesting!  If nothing else, it would certainly give it an added dimension to your magic and so on… and thus, clouds suit my spirit just fine.   

And it happened... the other day this past October 11th.  For the very first time ever in all of the birthdays I have ever had in my entire life, I got to literally speaking sit on clouds… literally!

You see, we were flying back home from a lovely vacation in Spain, which it happened to be on my birthday. And what a magical gift that was!  I sat by the little window side of our airplane, and for a  magical moment I flew out though it to the outside—high, high into the sky where clouds traveling across the skies lifted me up, and tossed me around from one to another, hiding me among themselves as they scattered light and painted the sky in varied colors. Dreams, illusions, and mystery, inspiration, high spirits, and height. It is interesting how clouds can represent so many different emotions or states of mind.

It was cold, dark and very late when we got home, but the minute the new sun came up the following morning scattering wonderful magical golden rays all over my little world, my heart knew what to do… 

Ah the sun… the new sun kissing window panes and showering life with new blessings and expectations, shifting despair and bringing hope and optimism.  I opened my eyes, and went outside… to the garden, to greet it to worship it to drink in all the late glories I had missed there…

What I found there left me speechless.  Autumn had moved in and it had made the garden yellow and crimson and each leaf in the vines had turned to paper ash. 

Grapes are over ripe, vines covering fences and walls have been stripped out of their glories; now exposing wine-colored veins and pods and berries the color of purple plums. 

But the real magic rested in the roses…. Frozen in time as they seem to be.

They had all dried to thin paper right on the bush… as silent ghosts from eras gone by, still standing in all its glories... for  me to see and be amazed over them.  What a magical, magical sight they posed under the new morning sun...

I kept walking and kept marveling; crushing leaves under my feet as my heart fluttered above and around like a little white butterfly...

Then, I hurried on to make some bouquets with them...

No need to dry them at this point. Nature had already done the work for me!  I will still have roses during our winter and I will still keep the magic growing in my cloud-heart.

If you are a dreamer, I can tell you with certainty that the sky knows the reasons and the patterns behind all clouds, and that if you lift yourself high enough to see beyond horizons, untold secrets will be revealed to you too.   

I love how Wilfred Peterson puts it: Walk with the dreamers, the believers, the courageous, the cheerful, the planners, the doers, the successful people with their heads in the clouds and their feet on the ground. Let their spirit ignite a fire within you to leave this world better than when you found it. Don't ever be afraid of dreaming!

Home

Ten days away from home—Canada, Niagara Falls, NY, Old Westbury.  People, people, and crowded spaces everywhere everyday.  And my empath soul absorbing all that energy around me; and at time, becoming drained.  

Thank you, Heavenly Father, for life.  Thank you for breath.  Thank you for earth.  I will remain here until I can fly to another planet.  I will always be tender.  Thank you for my highly sensitive self.  Help me accept me the way I am, help me remember that although I may be misunderstood by others and even criticized for being a sensitive human being, it is OK to be sensitive, for that’s what happens when you have magic in your heart.  Because, yes, I feel all the things and I use every part of my heart.

And what a transformation had taken place here in my garden and in my little world, as I came back to it—with my heart in my hands and my knees on its grounds; as a thanksgiving and a total surrendering of the soul.

 

More dahlias in bloom, more late roses mellowing the winds, the vines have turned flushed with the colors of fall and everything seems to be carrying upon themselves cloaks and shrouds most fitting of the new season.

What privilege, what marvelous things is to come back to the solitude of this sacred place of mine and be able to freed my overloaded self of unnecessary social mundanities.  

 

I have to pick all those ripe grapes waiting for me in sleepy vines, and I have to fill birdfeeders and change the water in birdbaths, and the morning sun coming from the window on my right side this morning is filling the room with magic and golden light and I can see, through the window, the golden specks of magic fluttering around the atmosphere; filling my heart with a special joy and the faith that sustains my soul.

 

 

 

I am happy.  I am a little girl dancing with my Father in a great ballroom where people dance to a different tune.  I see them laughing empty laughs and I see them missing the whole point in life…  this is the curse, and the blessing of the empath—feeling the distance, the doubt and life to a different degree.  We sense the shift before it can even be verbalized…