Friday November 21, 2003: an early winter
For the first time in recent memory, it's snowed here in Seattle before Thanksgiving.
Twice, now.
Now, what we call snow is what people in other parts of the country call "a dusting". Enough to make the roads slippery, enough to have the water on your car windows freeze, enough to make things look briefly artistic before it all melts at 11 AM. This morning, the vanpool was quiet as we drove across the lake. I was watching the mist rising from the lake, burring and wreathing the ducks that were silhouetted by the rising sun.
I am wearing my purple scarf and hat, my wonderful oilskin coat, my purple and black gloves. The world is soft around the edges as I walk from my van stop to my building, the fog coming across the sky as my boots thump on the pavement. I sat with a cup of tea this morning before I left the house, sipping the tea and looking out the window at the parking lot, at the drops of water on the end of every needle of the pine tree.
These small, perfect things, these microcosoms that hold the entirety of the world within them. Each drop of water reflects the world and the world reflects every drop of water.
I understand, sometimes, why people beleive in a god who knows where each drop of rain falls, who numbers the molecules in the ocean and knows exactly how many Canada geese are in the air winging their way southward. It's almost painful to know all of the things that go unobserved. It would be comforting to beleive that everything is witnessed.
Instead, I know that everything witnesses itself. And we change what we see, and what we see changes us. We're all quantum like that.
(It's really too early in the morning for religious thought. Murf.)
I almost ran over a squirrel the other day.
While running. Yes, I almost ran over a squirrel on foot.
I was running on the trail by work, minding my own business. There was a rustle in the bushes next to me, and this grey blur burst out onto the path in front of me.
I can't decide who was more surprised, me or him. He bounced in front of me a couple of times, decided that I was probably a threat, and executed this amazing tumbling somersault midair, about waist level me and about a foot in front of me. Then he was across the path and up a tree the other side. I started laughing and had to slow down because laughing helplessly is not conducive to keeping a good breathing cadence.
Running is actually going pretty well. I'm pushing up against a bit of a wall right now, what with the changing weather and the urge to slack off I've been having. I need to keep running through the winter, though, to keep my metabolism up and to avoid getting out of shape. I'm still going to Curves on a regular basis, as well, though I really need to get new shoes because my old ones are making my ankles hurt.
This process has been all kinds of interesting. It's nice to have a body that actually works, and that can do what I ask of it. The orthotics and the night splint have made my hurt foot feel much, much better, as well.
It'll be interesting to see what's next.
Administrivia:
I made a few changes to the cast page. I also need to redo the backstory page, but i might not get to that this weekend.
I'm also thinking I'm going to give up on getting my 50K words in for NaNoWriMo. Between everything that's been going on in my life and me wanting to spend a significant amount of time working on other things, I think I may need to see if I can't finish it in December instead of November. I'm pretty far behind and Word has been being a major bitchkitty to me, so i've been actively avoiding writing, which I realized last night.
Ah, well. Next year, perhaps I won't get derailed by my life.
And as for the other stuff...
Still working on healing. I've spent a lot of time by myself this week, which I needed--getting back into my life, peering into the corners and deciding what's now clutter and needs to go.
It's time for an emotional housecleaning, I think. There are rooms that have fallen into disuse and others that need to be locked and have the keys thrown away. I know that breaking my silence while I'm still hurting would be the worst thing I could do; that doesn't make the silence any easier, except for the knowledge that it's necessary.
Chris and I both need this time, to get used to things. I need to get things settled in my head and my heart, to be caught up in the dance again and feel the new rhythms in my bones.
Some day, he and I will be friends again--we're far too linked not to be. But I'm hoping that with time and silence, we can transistion to whatever the next phase is.
I've got my fingers crossed, anyway.
On the whole, though, there is much more joy than sorrow in my life. I have a feeling that this winter may be different from the winters before. Taking care of myself seems to make a lot of difference in how I feel in the winter, and I'm *really* hoping to skip my annual depression this year. Or, if I don't, at least have it be a small, quiet depression. That's much easier to deal with than the black wave, and can be dealt with while I'm in motion. The black wave demands that I stop and pay the toll; the little depressions I can usually outrun, these days.
And the winter has its own pleasures: curling up in blankets in front of the fireplace, having people warm my hands for me, hot chocolate and cozy company on the couch, tea and classical music and warm purring kittens as the rain or snow comes down outside. There are apples and pears, sweet potatoes and parsnips, squashes of various sorts, and all manner of things spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg. There's the pleasure of watching the sky change silver for steel, watching the water move restlessly under the bridges. There are wild nights with wind and rain, and there are silent, calm nights in the mountains where the moon lights the snow as brightly as daylight.
All of these warm things, the lights in the long darkness.
And I am content.
Twice, now.
Now, what we call snow is what people in other parts of the country call "a dusting". Enough to make the roads slippery, enough to have the water on your car windows freeze, enough to make things look briefly artistic before it all melts at 11 AM. This morning, the vanpool was quiet as we drove across the lake. I was watching the mist rising from the lake, burring and wreathing the ducks that were silhouetted by the rising sun.
I am wearing my purple scarf and hat, my wonderful oilskin coat, my purple and black gloves. The world is soft around the edges as I walk from my van stop to my building, the fog coming across the sky as my boots thump on the pavement. I sat with a cup of tea this morning before I left the house, sipping the tea and looking out the window at the parking lot, at the drops of water on the end of every needle of the pine tree.
These small, perfect things, these microcosoms that hold the entirety of the world within them. Each drop of water reflects the world and the world reflects every drop of water.
I understand, sometimes, why people beleive in a god who knows where each drop of rain falls, who numbers the molecules in the ocean and knows exactly how many Canada geese are in the air winging their way southward. It's almost painful to know all of the things that go unobserved. It would be comforting to beleive that everything is witnessed.
Instead, I know that everything witnesses itself. And we change what we see, and what we see changes us. We're all quantum like that.
(It's really too early in the morning for religious thought. Murf.)
I almost ran over a squirrel the other day.
While running. Yes, I almost ran over a squirrel on foot.
I was running on the trail by work, minding my own business. There was a rustle in the bushes next to me, and this grey blur burst out onto the path in front of me.
I can't decide who was more surprised, me or him. He bounced in front of me a couple of times, decided that I was probably a threat, and executed this amazing tumbling somersault midair, about waist level me and about a foot in front of me. Then he was across the path and up a tree the other side. I started laughing and had to slow down because laughing helplessly is not conducive to keeping a good breathing cadence.
Running is actually going pretty well. I'm pushing up against a bit of a wall right now, what with the changing weather and the urge to slack off I've been having. I need to keep running through the winter, though, to keep my metabolism up and to avoid getting out of shape. I'm still going to Curves on a regular basis, as well, though I really need to get new shoes because my old ones are making my ankles hurt.
This process has been all kinds of interesting. It's nice to have a body that actually works, and that can do what I ask of it. The orthotics and the night splint have made my hurt foot feel much, much better, as well.
It'll be interesting to see what's next.
Administrivia:
I made a few changes to the cast page. I also need to redo the backstory page, but i might not get to that this weekend.
I'm also thinking I'm going to give up on getting my 50K words in for NaNoWriMo. Between everything that's been going on in my life and me wanting to spend a significant amount of time working on other things, I think I may need to see if I can't finish it in December instead of November. I'm pretty far behind and Word has been being a major bitchkitty to me, so i've been actively avoiding writing, which I realized last night.
Ah, well. Next year, perhaps I won't get derailed by my life.
And as for the other stuff...
Still working on healing. I've spent a lot of time by myself this week, which I needed--getting back into my life, peering into the corners and deciding what's now clutter and needs to go.
It's time for an emotional housecleaning, I think. There are rooms that have fallen into disuse and others that need to be locked and have the keys thrown away. I know that breaking my silence while I'm still hurting would be the worst thing I could do; that doesn't make the silence any easier, except for the knowledge that it's necessary.
Chris and I both need this time, to get used to things. I need to get things settled in my head and my heart, to be caught up in the dance again and feel the new rhythms in my bones.
Some day, he and I will be friends again--we're far too linked not to be. But I'm hoping that with time and silence, we can transistion to whatever the next phase is.
I've got my fingers crossed, anyway.
On the whole, though, there is much more joy than sorrow in my life. I have a feeling that this winter may be different from the winters before. Taking care of myself seems to make a lot of difference in how I feel in the winter, and I'm *really* hoping to skip my annual depression this year. Or, if I don't, at least have it be a small, quiet depression. That's much easier to deal with than the black wave, and can be dealt with while I'm in motion. The black wave demands that I stop and pay the toll; the little depressions I can usually outrun, these days.
And the winter has its own pleasures: curling up in blankets in front of the fireplace, having people warm my hands for me, hot chocolate and cozy company on the couch, tea and classical music and warm purring kittens as the rain or snow comes down outside. There are apples and pears, sweet potatoes and parsnips, squashes of various sorts, and all manner of things spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg. There's the pleasure of watching the sky change silver for steel, watching the water move restlessly under the bridges. There are wild nights with wind and rain, and there are silent, calm nights in the mountains where the moon lights the snow as brightly as daylight.
All of these warm things, the lights in the long darkness.
And I am content.
