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Man, it was a thousand years ago and yesterday at the same time. Cigarettes and chain link fences, and later R.E.M. Flailing around in our minds and bodies trying to make sense of it all. Knowing everything and nothing at the same time.

It’s Fall that brings it back. The light shines right, the air is crisp and the leaves make crunching noises that work like keys to unlock memories. Happy-sad memories of lost relationships and interests. Embarrassing memories we were grateful that we’d thought we’d forgotten. And mundane memories of walking to school, or riding in cars unsupervised.

It’s Fall and time to harvest these thoughts and emotions. Time to reap what insight these unlocked currents can provide. Time to take them and store them. For in the solitude of Winter that approaches, these things will sustain you until Spring.

Twitch. Even the inanimate objects seem on edge. Twitch. The second hand at the bar seems jumpy, nervous even. Twitch. Anxious too. Tracking our movement through space and time. Twitch. At first it’s still, like the air that’s beginning to fill with cigarette smoke. It waits. Twitch. Building pressure until it can no longer shirk its duty and then lunges forward. Twitch. With so much excess kinetic energy that it shoots past the target forcing it to…twitch before it comes to rest again Twitch.

Meet me in the Church of Lost Souls at midnight and we’ll dance.
Pounding out a rhythm with the thrust of our hips;
we’ll find the pulse that drives creation.
Taken in the arms of the Universe
we’ll lose ourselves in holy reverie—
this feast of bread and wine.

I have recently decided to start a writing project based on the seasons. An exploration of how they effect me, my thoughts and my mood and mindset. Also their relation to the life cycle of individuals, thoughts and feelings—myself included and in a general sense.

I like the idea for a number of reasons. It gives me content for this site to begin to structure categories and other nerdy organizational stuff. It also gives me something I haven’t had for so long that I didn’t even realize I missed it, an avenue for creative expression. And in doing so a pressure valve for my rabid self-scrutiny and introspection. A hint that something productive, creative, dare I say real might emerge is intoxicating.

The  nature of the project, lends it self to ongoing development and revision. Every year is more research. Starting small, with whatever I have and getting it out, on to the page and letting it stew is just fine. I have no clear expectations of what will come. The process is exciting to me and while I could see a need for a deadline at some point, right now it is the furthest thing from my mind.

I want to thank those who have actually pulled this project from my sideways remarks that I’d like to do something blah blah blah,  to actually doing it. You may not have any idea how your even casual support has done wonders.

The sun is shining again and Summer is still months away as we happily retire our favorite sweaters to the lower drawers and our winter coats to the hall closet. Spring is here and pretty much in full swing. Amidst the bunnies, birdies, pastels, pansies, mid-drifts and motorcycles lies an important yet oft overlooked aspect of this, the second season. In all its glory of birth and rebirth the inherent frailty of is life easily forgotten or just willfully ignored.

Conceived in the cold darkness of Winter and gestated there, the thoughts and feelings of our souls may seem hardened, but let us not forget that thunderstorms and tornados lie in wait, and the baking heat of the sun is just around the corner. Spring is a test, a battleground, a trial for new and old alike. Not all candidates survive, many must adapt to do so. But when Summer comes, these trials will be looked back upon with nostalgic favor as the close heat of Summer ushers us into Fall.