quiet

The loons are gathering. Every fall before the lake freezes over, the loons start to come together. They will cluster in ever larger numbers, preparing to fly in a flock to the ocean for winter.

And in the woods., the brilliant orange and red leaves are falling. It’s quiet until it’s not. Bang! Bang Bang Bang!. Gun shots can be heard. A few weeks ago, when hunting season started, it seemed as if everyone was wearing orange. This morning, I heard more bangs than ever and saw no orange on people or dogs!

It’s an odd time: on one hand, he lake is back to its peaceful self. Each day is shorter than the next.. On the other, there is lots of intensity and excitement all around: elections, intense astrology, and people getting out when they can before the snow and ice come.

How to deal with these opposites?
I find myself focusing on completely unimportant matters: like what shoes to wear when I travel to Europe. I have used Lyme as a reason to dress non-stop in sweatpants and sneakers here and when I travel to Canada. But Europe? (Where sneakers brand you as an American.)

And then I think back to that memorable story about my mother. My mother who could care less how she looked, even when young apparently. As she loved to tell it: she was going back to visit the school in Boston where she had taught – 4th grade maybe? It was a year after she had gotten married and moved to Virginia. I’m guessing she was dressed better just because she had moved to the south. But not totally… She went in to see the children she knew, she’s standing in front of the class, and one little boy looked at her and commented out louf: “Same old shoes”. (The shoes likely weren’t even fashionable when she was teaching. )

You’d think with a mother like that that I might not care what I wear. But no, I was raised in the south. But now that I’m not so young, why not put on what feels good.

Shoes. Such a small concern. Nothing really.

At the other end of the spectrum: other matters? LOUD. The world at large? TIme to learn to turn down the dial.

I can say with such thanks – I’m lucky to live by this water, this quiet water. Soon the loons will fly and it will be even quieter.

time to do my art?