A very mellow and misty welcome to the fruitfulness of this room;
it's Autumn and the wheel turns inexorably on towards . . . well, we know not what!
|One of my favourite Autumn images from 12th September 2008|
This is the 51st First Day of Autumn I've experienced . . . fifty-one times my world has changed colour and a stillness descended . . . because I think there is a stillness about Autumn that is different to the stillness of the other seasons . . . there's a kind of anticipation . . . and I suppose that, at my stage of life, I feel that anticipation too . . .
It's strange how most of us see our lives in a linear way; we start at birth or just before and end at death, A to B . . . but yet, we witness life in a circular way; the seasons, the days . . . maybe that's why a lot of us get a great deal of pleasure from growing plants or gardening or being out in nature; it reassures us perhaps that life is circular . . .
As a child I used to wonder what a caterpillar thought when it changed into a moth or a butterfly; what did it think when it began to dissolve into a soup and reform into a different creature altogether? There is, of course the famous "What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly . . ." but I hadn't heard of that at the time and think I just imagined myself dissolving from the toes up . . . curious boy!
And so what has the day been like for you, dear readers? This isn't purely a rhetorical question; you can write in and answer . . . it can get a tad lonely spouting like a font and it would be so nice to here your opinions . . . yes? Well, in the absence of a reply I suppose I could regale you with the kind of day I've had . . . it has been interesting; quite a lot of things have gone wrong from losing keys to having words with a certain someone who should know better than to imagine she can re-arrange the contents of the rubbish bag around the BPS and meet with my unstinting approval . . . I mention no names of course; suffice it to say we are the best of friends and she is in a waggy mood again . . . 'nuff said!
It has been an opportunity however, to try and be positive and dismiss the negative thoughts . . . and, do you know, I think it works! I am, however, very tired and still a creaking gate so I think I shall repair to my cot and read some others words and maybe sleep until a reasonable hour . . . 6 am maybe?
Anyhow, until tomorrow I shall leave you with an excerpt from "Night Thoughts" by Edward Young* and hope it resounds somewhat with you as it does with me . . .
At thirty, man suspects himself a fool,
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan
At fifty, chides his infamous delay,
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve,
In all the magnanimity of thought
Resolves, and re-resolves, then dies the same.
And why? because he thinks himself immortal,
All men think all men mortal but themselves.
'til next time
Be Seeing You !
* Available from http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33156