It is a chill that doesn't take its shape from frost or wind. Brilliant colors lie on the sidewalk, the walls of stone or wood, evidence of that dimension of autumn that marks some sort of finality. Yes, it's been coming for a while and its arrival ought surprise no one. Still, I notice my sharp intake of breath. I can label this surprise.
Yet perhaps it's less surprise and more discomfort with what that chill summons in me. I am captured by some stray whiff of a life without warmth, requiring me to generate heat on my own. In this moment, watching leaves and feeling the bite of the coming months, I feel it as a huge task, one I don't feel equal to.
Ah, I know my task, remember what is needed. I will sit with this, just as I would other, less challenging sensations. I know that my aim is to weigh, measure, explore, and learn rather than to judge or compare. It's the same task as always, just momentarily more difficult.
Blessings
Marco
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