Woodsmoke and Some Thoughts

I smelled woodsmoke while out for a walk this morning morning. I couldn't help but smile to myself and think, 'It's going to be a good day.'

I love the smell of wood, don’t you? Whether its tall and proud in a forest somewhere. Or chopped and humble in a fireplace. There’s something so comforting and grounding in those smells. Your nose tingles, your eyes light up a bit, and you feel joy’s signature warmth spread through your chest as you look for the source of the smell. And it truly is joy. A simple joy. One of my favorite kinds. And yet I’m struck by the realization that most of those joys are for things I haven't myself experienced. 

When I think of a fire burning in the winter stove, I think of family, of love, of warmth and contentment, and the inability to peel one's eyes from the magic of the flames. I want my life to be like that fire: I want it to be a picture of family and love, of warmth and peace; I want to draw people in and help them to contemplate the deeper meanings of life; I want my heart to have an aroma that makes people's noses twitch, makes their lips curl into a smile, and leaves them saying, 'Today's going to be a good day.'

Perhaps part of the joy I feel is in the reminder that I have the power to choose my future, to bring those future joys about. Or perhaps woodsmoke is just a pleasant smell. Either way, what a joy. 

Clarity

There's much to be said for clarity. It's liberating. It gives direction to our meaning and our purpose for being. And yet, depending on the juncture of your life, it can feel like cold steel on your wrists and a pane of bulletproof glass.

Someone recently told me that we always have the power to choose, if not our circumstance then our attitude. This gentle reminder has given me a great deal of clarity. And yet, in many ways it feels as though there is an impenetrable obstacle standing between me and my future. Perhaps it's bulletproof and perhaps it isn't. I won't know until I test it.  

Over the weeks since receiving that wonderful gift of hope, I've been focusing on changing me and my attitude. A still-small voice in my chest tells me that's the best place to start.

Isn't it appropriate that some of life's greatest seasons of change take place in Autumn?

“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.” - Anatole France

I've recently discovered a wonderful band by the name of The Paper Kites. Bloom was the first song of theirs I fell in love with. Featherstone quickly followed. Today, it was St. Clarity that struck me.

My Autumnal Soul Sings

As my teeth sink into a crunchy red apple on this crisp Autumn morning, I think about seasons; among other things, the demarcation of the passage of time. Seasons come and seasons go. Some go on for what seems forever while others zoom by so quickly I dare not blink. The funny thing about seasons is that while they turn and return in an endless cycle, no two Falls are ever the same.  

My autumnal soul sings with freshness and newness, a sharp breeze in my increasingly bare limbs. I am fully aware of the losses and absences all around me. They are a beautiful, fiery harbinger of what is to come, strewn about my feet like so many dreams -- those realized and those discarded -- making room for those that will take their place after the long, cold winter.

I've had 26 Falls. This will be my 27th. I can't remember ever feeling so encouraged, so new, so alive.  

"Blessed is the man 

who walks not in the counsel or the wicked,

nor stands in the way of sinners, 

nor sits in the seat of scoffers;

but his delight is in the Lord,

and on his law he meditates day and night.

He is like a tree

planted by streams of water

that yields its fruit in its season..."

...that yields its fruit in its season. Amen.  

Saturday Morning Haiku, 5-7-5. 7-9-7, Poetry soothes the weary

Crisp Autumn embrace

Colors give the best cuddles

Hello, Mr. Ant!

I saw a bucket

Drip by drop it overflowed
Be patient, dear heart

Do not envy the butterfly her wings

She earned her elegance with hot tears and time
Cocoons do not cowards make

Dear sweet bird up in the sky
Won't you come sing me a lullaby
I want only to listen

Embrace change but don't forget

Becoming is a painful process;

Just ask that mountain up there

Light eddies on chilly toes

Her chest rises and falls next to mine

So, the Sun does also rise

Joy beckons to Grief

Just a little farther, love

I will be waiting right here