October Blues

A month or so ago I wrote about my September Blues. They were mainly in my head. I knew that a change was coming, and I was trying to keep up with the preparations, get ahead of it, take control of it. And then trying to let go again.

Now it is October it is truly cold in the mornings and evenings: yesterday, the bright orange sea buckthorn berries on the bushes outside the house were covered in snow. Everything, in fact, was white. It is cold, we are all constantly fighting off minor infections, the alarm clock goes off in the mornings, the fires have to be lit and maintained. I drink hot drinks again. So now I can actually feel the change in my body.

It feels different from all that ‘head-change’. It feels more difficult, my body has to actually move through the changes, the cold, the viruses, the fires, the new rhythms and the ever increasing darkness. At the same time it feels less speedy and mind-driven, and more authentic. In fact it is only the other side of the coin, which naturally presents itself, just as after the morning of snow yesterday an autumn day was revealed underneath, all gold and red and brown. The strange thing about autumn and spring and all times of change, is that two seasons, summer and winter, two states seem to co-exist. We cannot fully relax into one before the other comes out and disturbs us.

In fact you could say that as long as we are alive, it is always autumn, and always spring: something is always growing and something is always dying. Certainly in myself there is always the drive to curl up, and the desire to run outside. The trick is not to get too concerned or cling to one side or the other. The trick is to let it be.