The Revolution Starts in a Sea of Paper Cups...

I always associate fall with the change. To me, new years is not a cold and drunken celebration (though I do enjoy that as well) but the time of the year when leaves morph to golden, red, dust coloured. Fall has always been the time where my feet get itchiest and my heart tugs at the reins, wanting new, wanting change, springing forward... ironically.

To me fall is also the time of decent and finality. Summer ends, the air gets colder (though this year in calgary it seems as though summer and fall have switched places, in terms of temperature), people change, people leave, people are pushed away. This has been the biggest thing for me today, as though a leak sprung in a dam that I was trying to hold together with gum and a steady finger. One drop got out, then a few more and one more and suddenly all is crumbling around me, flooding my eyes and ears, my thought process, my ability to thoroughly enjoy Katie Perry songs. At first it was scary and now I feel as though I am in a bubble, safe and calm but watching it all come down. Maybe not perfectly calm. Something pulls me to collect the drops, make sure they are too safe and at peace and replace back where they came from. Let's be honest here. We all know how fruitless that is.

On an upward spiral, my heart skipped a beat. Today I played yoga in the green green grassy lawn of a church (no, they weren't happy but I am pretty sure some greater power was!). To feel the warm sun on my back, an all too uncommon thing these days, and my hands in the dirt and perfectly manicured lawn was pure bliss. Sigh.  This is also a key manifestation of the newness of fall. New inspiration comes with old, new people become dear to me. New doors bigger than Alice found are opening faster than I can drink potions or eat cake.

Like they say, the revolution starts in a sea of paper cups. viva la revolution!