Randomness: October

The chill has officially set in, and the wind is rattling the leaves into shivering masses of yellow and red and orange, eventually throwing them from the trees. The riot of growth that spring brings, and summer sustains, is settling in to hibernate. A miniature death, where the cold and rain and wind make the world around me crawl tighter in on itself, hiding from the harshening of the elements. A natural sabbath, an island in time where everything can sink into itself and find peace.

Even in the little death, there's life, though. Yin and yang, everything in balance. While the plants whither, and people huddle into parkas for shelter, the rain and wind recharge the rivers. The waters swell, following age old paths, and in some cases, forging new ones. The heat of summer and the needs of the plant life have glutted themselves with water, and as they seek their rest, water has time to replenish itself.

It's time to clean out, to sweep out the old articles and flotsam from my living space. Pieces of my life that are gone and only hold my focus on the past that have skittered into the corners of my apartment. They tie me down, and keep me from being able to look forward to new goals and opportunities.

Just like the trees, I spend the first part of fall clinging to the waning force of earth and life.

Blah-blah-blah-blah. Shit.

I can only do literary stuff for so long before I start feeling too artsy-fartsy for my own good. I read once upon a time that a Scorpio's life is filled with small deaths and re-birth. Learning to let go of what's past and done is rough, though. My dreams lately have been filled with things that I need to sweep out of my subconscious, just like my apartment is full of stuff that I need to sweep out of the corners. I don't want to head into the little death of winter surrounding by items that only hold me to the past instead of letting me move forward.

There's an equilibrium of life that had never occurred to me before, though. I was driving along the Puyallup River the other day, and as the plants die back, the river is being reborn. The river sweeps out the detritus left behind by a season's worth of pollen and dust and the left overs from humans and animals. It clears the way for the next seasons orgy of growth and color.

I need to sweep my own life clean. Vacuum the dust and cobwebs out of the corners, mulch the plants, reorganize book shelves and cupboards. I want to quit smoking. I need to get a job. I'm studying for the LSAT, so that I can make a forward lunge toward a career that will allow me to follow my instincts and help people.

The important thing is that my space is clean, ready to curl up in and to protect me from the harshness of coming winter.