season of the witch socks

we're really getting into it now. for the past few days the thermometer has been dropping - reinforced by the fact that both cats run for the sofa whenever they see me pulling out a blanket to snuggle into. the sun is still out, but the solar heat is just not the same as could be felt just a few weeks ago. gardens are now somewhat overgrown and the holly berries are beginning to turn their bright red in preparation for autumn and winter. the morning glories are still valiantly attempting to worship the morning sun, even though the temperatures are cooling off rapidly. the few rusted leaves that are on the neighbourhood lawns will soon give way to a crunchy blanket of red, orange and yellow.

this is also the time of the thinning of the veil. for those who believe in such things, now is the time when you begin to hear extra creaks in the floor boards, lights being on when you know they were off and for my poor roommate - a face full of water as a result of the shower head being turned in her direction (i didn't do it... and i don't think that the cats can reach). i've lived in places that experienced far more activity than this one. places where a self-declared non-sensitive found it hard to walk up the stairs to the upper bedroom. and while she felt something restraining her, the believers felt a virtual invisible wall of resistance. i could go on about my experiences, but those are best saved for cozy nights in front of a roaring fireplace and servings of warming blueberry tea. or tarot readings. the last tarot party i did ended up with me sitting in a suburban mississagua home being asked to tell stories of my experiences with other worldly things. i felt a bit like a dog and pony show - and could see a bit more clearly why some readers develop a dramatic persona to go with their readings.

it's the time of year when nightly dreams arrive just that more vividly and quite often with a message for you to learn or to recall upon waking. it's the time of year that i remember all that has happened in the previous 12 months. it's the death of the living year, so in that time, for me it's only natural to remember those who have left this life. this year i will recall my grandma erna and my cat nes. this is the time of their final passing. i will also remember those who have left in years before : norma, decker (actually jacob - but my grandfather lived his entire life with a nickname... how cool is that?), arthur, george, rose, john, cornelia, sam, boris, diva and on and on i could go. i will remind myself of all the wonderful memories and experiences shared with each of them. i will let go of the sadness i still feel on each of their passings and remind myself that while their actual presence is in absentia my thoughts of them will live on as long as i do.

i find comfort in the seasonal changes, i really do. sometimes it's rather simple to become so self-absorbed that one loses the thread of their own life. the core of the person and the essence of that unique spark that makes us all individuals. when i get a little too self-obsessed with self-loathing (why did this happen to me? what do i do wrong? why does nothing go right?) i find it so helpful to be able to look at the ever changing robes that nature cloaks herself in. the cycle moved in it's ancient pattern long before i ever drew my first breath and the dance will go on long after i have exhaled my last. the sun somehow remembers to rise and shine each day and the moon glows in it's cool counterpart to the solar melody. it's all so much larger than any of us.

[music | dead can dance, "oman"]