Late morning early fall, the beginning of the end all over again

I go to nature to heal, I go every day. And though it always feels the same, it never is. I rummage through the past and present, I go looking for what others leave behind.

I didn’t expect the moon to be out, or the golden cedar fronds on the ground, a tapestry of found art like us, temporary.

I scan the beaches for what’s buried or forgotten, to give me something to take back and hold up to the light, and look through — and though it may be common, useless or crude, it brings my life meaning to find these things, to give them homes.

Now the boughs and fronds hang low, wanting to fall, and it’s a necessary restoration, the earth pulling itself inwards, a culling of leaves from the stem, you take what’s necessary and leave the rest.

I’ll sit with the falling needles and remember my senses and feel alive once more with nature: here a crow calls, the wind comes…and it’s the beginning of the end all over again.

 

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
This entry was posted in prose, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

37 Responses to Late morning early fall, the beginning of the end all over again

  1. kingmidget says:

    I do too. Go to nature to heal, that is. Just don’t do it nearly enough. The last two Sundays I have got out for a couple of hikes. It’s been better, but not quite there yet.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. It’s a beautiful and empowering writing that pushes us to reflect on things and stoking the mind. Have a good day, mate.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Sometimes your posts do that for me; this is one.

    I’m grateful.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Ah yes. Really there’s nothing like getting away from the man-made and absorbing the natural. Even the rotting things are beautiful out there.

    When are you headed off to Europe?

    Like

  5. rossmurray1 says:

    I’m just jumping in here to recommend Exit West by Mohsin Hamid, if for no other reason than it being a powerful defence of the run-on sentence. A most beautiful little book.

    Like

  6. ksbeth says:

    nature works its magic on me as well –

    Like

  7. Dave Ply says:

    Sometimes when you go out and find beauty in the small things, the bigger ones become easier to handle. So much for, don’t sweat the small stuff.

    Liked by 1 person

    • pinklightsabre says:

      Amen. Hope your meetup was good. I wound up not going to Europe after all but it was my wife’s birthday Saturday, so there you go. Glad to be here for it.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Dave Ply says:

        I ended up not going. I was also trying to coordinate with some family up there, and it fell through. It’s good you were able to celebrate with your wife, I’m sure that was more interesting than lunch with some strangers from the Internet.

        Like

      • pinklightsabre says:

        Heh, yes: sign of a good marriage (more interesting than strangers from the Internet). Funny…

        Liked by 1 person

  8. walt walker says:

    Was watching a video of a scientist who was very sciency in explaining the anti-depressant powers of nature, how inhaling certain molecules activated certain whatsits in the brain and such. He concluded by remarking how “bizarrely” (his word) anti-depressant it is to be in nature, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I guess he got so caught up in the lab that he forgot we are part of an ecosystem and if you remove us from it, we suffer.

    Liked by 1 person

    • pinklightsabre says:

      My friend Loren (school teacher) often takes urban, city kids out into nature as part of his curriculum and introduces them to natural sounds and so forth. I’m addicted to it, as we’ve discussed. The other day I realized, it’s like I’m healing and then collapsing again every day, and I rely on it for the writing inspiration. Used to work like a charm, now I have to work at it. Pinned down by a cat on my lap now, so no walk this morning, not for a while. Bill

      Like

  9. That is absolutely what keeps me tethered to the Northwest with cords I can’t possibly break, even for the love of family. Love for the natural world in all it’s incarnations is life’s breath. Beautiful post Bill! I can totally relate.

    Liked by 1 person

    • pinklightsabre says:

      It’s one of my favorite times of year here, followed by one of the worst, right?! Time to start thinking about getting fresh fuel for the generator, just in case. The winds of November…heh, heh.

      Like

  10. That bough looks like a sinister hand. Something out of a Tim Burton illustration. Nice composition there, pal. There’s something therapeutic about sitting next to water. It’s a biological reaction. It’s probably why waterside real estate is so bloody expensive.

    Liked by 1 person

    • pinklightsabre says:

      Good eye with this sinister hand, the Tim Burton: I was going for the same! I think that’s the tree that also has some angler’s bobs caught in it, that gives it a Christmas tree vibe, though sorry-ass. I tag that lake every day, to clear my head. Keeps dirtying-up again!

      Like

  11. edbrummel says:

    The tone of this post being contemplative, inward—just as the earth, itself, is pulling herself inward.

    Yesterday, we had our first snow of this half of the year: wet and sloppy, several inches. I find my ownself introspective and inward. And, lo and behold (after too, too many months away), i read this blogpost. Danke. Merci. Gracias. Grazie.

    Liked by 1 person

    • pinklightsabre says:

      You’re in Colorado Ed? I forget, but saw Rosemerry’s poem today on “first snow.” So great to hear from you again! Thanks for popping by. Enjoy the change…I’m trying to myself. Bill

      Like

  12. Nicely said. Visiting the Falls this weekend and feel this way.

    Like

Please share your thoughts!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s