Autumn's always been my favourite season. For some reason, April showers and shadowy clouds on a chilly day brings out the sombre, contemplative side in me. The khaki coloured leaves piling up in the gutters and gusts of mini willy willys remind me of the parts of ourselves that we shed to start the next day, the next chapter of our lives.
It doesn't need to always be a new season three months later. It could be a new job, a new relationship, a new addition to the family or starting a course, that new milestone that our lives start and stop and overlap with.
While most of the planet greets April as the month of spring in full bloom, upside down in Australia as autumn it's nonetheless as meaningful. Polar opposites exist to remind us that the cycle is there for in affirmative reason.
Pondering on Steph's confessional, I can't help but confront my own thoughts. With so many significant events having gone on in my life the last couple of years, I haven't honestly had the chance to stop to confront that existentialist question. It's crossed over every now and then, but only fleetingly and never long enough for me to deal with it. Although I acknowledge that these events all happened for a reason, no matter how excruciating and painful or how blissful, there's still a part of me that ignores listening to those lessons, and I keep running. It's as though since I made that decision to "take the plunge", it became the literal plunge wherein life moves without breaks.
Some might say that's a good thing, that it's living life. I'd say, not entirely. While it's cool that I don't feel so enrapt in the details, I think the soul is missing something. It's missing being listened to.
Even though mother nature knows its course and everything around it follows, we seem to be the only beings who can do otherwise. We forget to listen to mother nature, the Creator's voice, who can tell us where and what we're looking for.
And then I understand why summer turns to autumn turns to winter turns to spring.
