Though when I really stop to take it all in, I take hope in the uncontrollable. The seasons that come both predictably and unpredictably. This year the rains came early and quashed any fears of a hot dry fall with long suffering smoky air. But those maple trees, sure enough, starting tinging orange at the top almost to the day on the first of September.
Thank Spirit that I have no control over these things. Thank you God for conducting the symphonies of life, earth, energy.
Down here in my feet, I have a tendency to feel alone, to take it all onto my back, and just focus on being as noiseless and presentable as I can while I strain under the weight of everything, maybe even asking if I can't take on more. This burden, of course, is all psychological, not physical. It seems the more I impress upon my brain, the less I attribute to my muscles. And those muscles are just begging for more work. This embodiment trend seems to have meat to it: a shift of the burden from the head down into the body seems like relief, if one can actually do it. So let's see what real stuff I've been holding in here, and feel them down to my toes instead of just circulating and rehashing their meanings over and over in my thoughts.
The annals of this September included pitfalls and boobytraps like:
-Teagan taking scissors to her hair for the first time, and taking enough off the top of her head to fashion herself a semi mullet.
-The whole family coming down with covid the first week of school.
-The hardships of adjusting Teagan to yet another new school, but with renewed hope that there IS a place for her here, with glimmers that she WILL eventually come out of her shell little by little if only we can stay healthy and consistent and steadfast through her anxieties and tears.
-The guilt I feel that I'm neglecting my oldest as he seems to be the most adjusted of the 3 kids, starting his 3rd grade at the same school, with established friends, sports, and routines. But I see his emotions starting to flare, his tiredness wearing him down, and my mind scrambles to figure out how to meet him where he's at, to reignite and nurture his spark
-The creep of overwhelm that comes from the pace of life dialed up too fast. The suitcases from our Boston trip are still unpacked. I went straight from summer family vaca mode to back to school shopping mode, no time to reset and recover (then, said covid storm ensued). Every room in the house has become a play zone and Legos are seemingly permanently embedded in the carpet.
-The rain has showed up early this year, and it's that semi-annual scramble to find seasonal appropriate clothing that fits bodies that have grown a whole size in 3 months. So that means having to hunt through the laundry piles every morning to find one of only 3 pairs of pants that barely fit Rajan every morning, and I HATE doing that. Who likes having to wade through physical piles of your failed tasks every day just to cover your body in order to do any basic thing and feel a semblance of humanness/sanity?
But.
-Teagan has just recently started wanting to go to school, despite some whimpers and complaints in the morning, so she can be with her friends and give them gifts. My girl, making friends 💜🩷💙🩵💚. If that is the only good thing to come of this fall, I'd be happy enough.
-Today is the full moon, and I woke up to 3 emails telling me it's the full moon, and suddenly I felt synced up to other people in this universe for once. The full moon today is unusually peaceful, so far. I attempted my first mommy baby yoga session down in Wallingford, amongst mostly first-time mommas with 1-2 month olds. I hung out with my acrobatic and loudly babbling 6 month old, feeling a bit out of place, but compared to anywhere else, I told myself, I am more in place here than most anywhere. After class, we walked in the sunshine past the park, up some small hills, past pleasingly spunky high schoolers just out of school early this jubilant fall Friday, and into a bakery /coffeeshop where an older woman tickled and gazed at Jayan's chubby soft feet, to which he replied with flashes of dimples and gurgles of thumb. I texted with my husband from a sunny but cool patio table, dappled with leftover raindrops, and sent a photo of my sandwich, the "happy garden." Then we strolled back to the car until he dropped off to sleep, napping all the way home and then some, so that I read a book in a camp chair in the driveway, sun and wind and clouds smiling down on us.
It is almost the end of September, and I guess my lesson has been, it takes a month, at least, to digest a big change. School doesn't start and immediately a new life clicks into place. School starts while summer is still crashing into the station, memory cars accordianing into each other. Don't stop for a breath, just put your head down and change course.
But here at the Harvest Moon, we are meant to begin reaping what we've sown. As the pace of the steam engine slows, we stretch out those cars along the track, decompress. Now breathe into the spaces. Is this what they mean by integration? Once there is breath in the spaces, does that hold the memories and lessons in place, processing them, unloading their cargo, and sorting them toward their destinations? It's fascinating how it is only rest and breath that can complete the supply chain of lifeblood, vitality, joy, purpose.
Harvest Moon day started out peaceful, but later, the lunacy and paranoia energies reared their heads. I was suddenly stripped of patience after one negative parenting moment. Then irritable and rebellious when I couldn't decide on how to put supper on the table, or agree on a show to watch with hubby. That's Ok. It's the energy, the environment, and it's sometimes unavoidable. But after that, remember to rest, breathe, integrate. Weave your positive intentions back together, like sweetgrass. Remember the moon.
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