As the August days wind down and the cooler nights give hints of the turning of the page from summer into fall, the temptation to contemplate all that's happens strikes again. Perhaps because of the start of school, September is forever connected to new beginnings. But how can things begin anew if one does not give credence to what has gone before? Appreciation for the former days becomes ritualized in the keeping of journals and the writing of history. The new season will be celebrated at the equinox. Perhaps this is as it should be. Each season is to be celebrated; each day is a blank slate upon which we discover ourselves and our destiny.
And so, there is a certain sadness when summer, or any season for that matter, fades away, even in spite of the promises yet to be. Taking time to sit with this sadness becomes important. A hermitage would be nice, but circumstances don't always allow for one to be away from the obligations of daily life. During those times, one must create a sort of hermitage of his or her own, shutting out the distractions of time and place in order to just be. It is that time for me now. I will continue to work and to write, but time with and for myself in a chosen secluded place is what my soul searches for at this moment.
I need to revise my sense of purpose and direction and make decisions about how I will proceed. Writing, I know, will help with this: it is one of the windows to the soul. This I firmly believe. But thought and meditation are also avenues to understanding of self. Lost? No Mapquest, good or bad, can help with this. I must clear my own path and hope to stay on the road that I will build.