The seasonal transition from autumn into winter marks the time of descent in many cultural myths. It is the period in the Western hemisphere in which we are called by the cycles of nature to physiologically, psychologically, and metaphysically turn inward. It is a time of closing in, of reconsidering, of re-calibrating and re-adjusting as we contemplate our actions and our reactions to the events of our lives over the past year. For our European ancestors this was the season of preparing for winter, for harvesting the last crops, and of culling the herds. This season was when our ancestors had to look death directly in the face.
Spiritually, this season is also the prime moment to transform the self, to shift our consciousness into editing what we choose to experience. In other words, the environment is auspicious, the time is right, and the tide is in, for one to make necessary navigational changes to one’s life path. I got a health scare yesterday so I am knee deep in this process. Here is my poem in response. Bless all sentient beings!
Pressure
Yesterday a wake up
Call is what you call it
My heart pumping too fast
I know that and it’s giving me headaches
I am told by one Dr to go to another Dr
I cry and slog forth
The day turns and I am defiant or
Perhaps accepting of the fact that
Death looms
That is the big fear
But I am not afraid of death
I know, from my half century of life
That any death that is final would be a gift
A snuffing out of consciousness, like a candle
Whose light is put out and there is the reward of
Oblivion and no more responsibility
But no we don’t get that
We only get regrets in a place without a body
That we did not try harder, for me it’s harder
Though I am kind
I attempt every day to wake up present
To a world that is a carnival
I attempt every night to wake up in a dream
And fly. I really like to fly in my dreams I really
Like to fly