“There are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion that if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret, spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.”
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
This is the way at the end of summer - the heart so full of emotion. I'm sitting here, September 2, thinking of all the stories I heard this past season. Library stories, the stories of friends who lost a good friend too young, had their hearts broken, were ill, or who got new jobs, or unravelled a bit, or who moved to another continent, found some inner peace, or who heard some good, good news, at last.
All these fragments we get to hold, for a small bit, as they're shared. What a privilege that is, a gift.
And September. That month where the light changes so drastically. Anything can change in the month of September. I suppose I mix things up, and see Fall as the season of hope, freshness, new possibilities. (The student in me...)
"I'm set in one direction: toward the sun," says Theodore Roethke.
He goes on,
"First the far trees ablaze, and then the last end-panes,
The shafts of light settling like long planks being lowered into place
Until you felt you could walk out toward the sun
On its own light.
Recall this heaven's light, you speechless man."
The light in fall - more strained, more golden, seems to send those beams of light for us to walk out on, toward the sun. The sunflowers are set in one direction, certainly.
All of these photographs taken one evening, after dinner. Me, wandering in the backyard, searching for light, wanting it to wake me up, transform me, centre me and allow me to breathe, reach some inner peace.
And it did, a little, it did.