sloping into autumn


Last night was the first night in a long time that I really, really didn’t want to be alone. I’d had a glorious day: a massage, beach time with lovely friends, a bit of elephant journal work.

But I woke up around 130am feeling feverish and scared, but I didn’t know why. My legs couldn’t shake that too-close-to-the-edge feeling, that vertigo-style pain and weakness. I don’t know where that feeling came from. I’d even scanned back into my dreams to try to figure out if they’d been nightmares.

They’d been strange and kind of scary, but I didn’t remember feeling terrified enough while in them to warrant this kind of feeling.

It wasn’t one of those things where you think someone else is in the apartment, or breaking in. I looked around for signs of that but it wasn’t the case.

What the hell were you trying to tell me, body? What was so deeply frightening?

This morning that feeling hangs with me, and so I’m not myself.

I know that with the onset of autumn, it’s going to be a relatively fast drop from the apex that was my birthday month, July in all it’s (my) glorious sunshiny ego. July with all it’s playtime, the place that spring had sprung us towards.

It didn’t take much effort at all to get up there; it felt like we’d been sprung upwards and forwards, landing at the top, new, loved (loving), faces all aglow.

I can already feel the shorter days, smell the drying grass, spot the dried leaves.

I would rather enjoy the roll downhill than fall down it, but I might need a helping hand.

Which hand(s)? Where are you? Do you need to be steadied too?

These lyrics (the song) seem to resonate of late. Perhaps it’s all the ocean and beach imagery.

“And darlin’ we will be fine but what was yours and mine 
seems to me a sandcastle that the gibbering wave takes. 
But if it’s all just the same then will you say my name 
say my name in the morning, so that I know when the wave breaks?

I wasn’t born of a whistle or milked from a thistle at twilight
No I was all horns and thorns, sprung out fully-formed, 
knock-kneed and all bright. 
So enough of this terror, we deserve to know light, 
and grow evermore lighter and lighter
You would’ve seen me through but I could not undo that desire.”

~ Joanna Newsom (Sawdust & Diamonds)

One thought on “sloping into autumn

  1. I woke up with that same frightened wonder…..kind of empty and fading; those smiling, loving faces….as if the shorter days bring fewer faces and those faces wear less expression in the autumn than they did in the rush of summer. I too share your birthday month and dread the downhill side of sunshine and lush green warmth.
    I’m glad I found your words here….they steadied that questioning for me some. 🙂

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