I’m back from a short break in Mexico City – the quirkiest capital city I’ve ever been – and surroundings, which offered a welcome break from the relentless heat of the last four months where we normally live. With summer holidays coming to an end and my favorite season here in the northern hemisphere approaching I thought I’d share another excerpt from “The Spirit of Flying” while I work on setting my “new” laptop up so I can share some more recent writing and photographs from my travels.
If you like it, follow the link at the end to my website and there’s a link to buy the book and at the same time support (with no cost to you) the translation into Spanish just by using my link when you go shopping on Amazon for whatever your heart desires. Enjoy.
The words can not describe the feeling
It is not of end-completion. It is end-of-a-cycle completion.
Like turning over an hourglass,
but instead it’s more like Gaia going to bed,
bolstered up by feather-down pillows and duvet with a good book.
All before returning to one-ness in a womb-like and restorative sleep,
before doing it all again.
Every autumn this delicious feeling
the stresses of summer:
of getting as much out of it as possible,
the parties, the bbq’s, get a tan
all in a short few months.
Then, with the change of seasons
from extroverted summer
to introverted autumn.
For a short transitory while
the temperature is just right
the air is crisp and fresh
like my own head clearing after a head-cold.
Nature brings on the spectacular finish
to the abundant extravaganza of summer
painting most of the vegetation
using a palette of flame colours
turning trees into giant fire crackers.
The colours of the sunsets changes too
ever so slightly towards cooler hues of winter.
The difference between a colourful cocktail with clinking ice cubes
and a steaming mug of hot tea or coffee
perhaps topped with whipped cream and cinnamon.
Of browsing a great second hand bookstore
as opposed to shopping for a beach wardrobe.
Not yet cold enough to light a fire
that crackles and brings its own magic to a room.
A hearty soup replacing the salad.
The harvest is in safely and
it’s all coming together for crafty evenings when the wind howls
and can chill you to the bone.
For a short few weeks
the state of nature around me
resonates with my own being totally.
Even with its wild storms
blowing away not just old leaves
but sadness, disappointments and the depression
that hovers on the figurative porch
waiting for someone to accost.
Bringing with it freshness, preparing the ground
with a blanket of leaves for the rest that we call winter.
Patting us on the back, of a job well done.
Inside candles replace flowers on the dresser and altar,
pyjamas and instead of fans in the bedroom.
Autumn is dancing with me in a slow waltz
intimate and delicious
to music only we can hear.
There is nothing more to prove
nothing more to be done
but follow his gentle lead
Soon enough winter will follow
with shorter days, grey clouds and cool lemon sun
and rest me in it’s embrace
So just for now
let’s keep on dancing…
Summer is ”needing” to go somewhere, do something
if only for its own sake
to have something to talk about.
Spring is like a hyperactive toddler
when mum wants a lie-in and to wake up slowly at a delicious pace.
It wants to do this and do that, all at once…
not luxuriate in the peace and comfort for a few minutes before getting up.
Winter is a night flight, in a smallish aircraft
where the Stewardess closes the door and the cold out
warm air fills the cabin
and all the low hum of conversation among the passengers
mix with the scent of coffee coming from the galley.
For a few hours we need to do nothing but relax,
read a book or magazine or even take a nap
before we land at our destination
where the hustle and bustle of returning to the ordinary world
and rejoining our busy lives once again.
Continuing on our journeys
to home, hotels or places of work.
Late autumn is restfull, undemanding
and at the same time inspiring;
new projects, new hobbies, expansions of the mind.
The Spirit of Flying is a bit like autumn to me
a sense of oneness and imminent completion
of no time, no goal
of being for no other reason than existing complete in the now.
I am one with the wings, or with the helicopter
and we just ARE.
Of all the fulfilment of a child’s hopes for Christmas being right there
wrapped in a silk scarf if you so wish
and then realizing you feel complete in yourself.
Where being turns to IS-ness
time has no meaning because it no longer exists
it is not a vacuum but a state so rich
there is nothing anyone could possibly add.
Bliss – the state with no opposite.
Weightless in space
at no specific point
here, there, and everywhere.
Nowhere else I want to be
nothing to accomplish
remember to do
No longer confined to a body but eternal,
an eternal return.
(30 October 2012)
Here’s the link:
Posted in Uncategorized
and tagged autumn
, el espiritu de volar
, northern hemisphere
, poetry of sorts
, The spirit of flying