Until you see what can be
Alone in a cold day dawning
Are you still free? Can you be?”
And please hold the phone if you’ve never heard of or had a GoldRush apple, because I urge you to find out how to get one. They are the strangest apples, growing into the light in late October and early November. I don’t think the picking season is very long for them, and I honestly had never heard of them outside of this one orchard, but they are fascinating apples. They are crisp and sweet and tart. The taste changes in your mouth from when you begin your bite, and apple, to when you finish your bite, and apple. They last long, and officially reach their “peak” around the New Year. So to achieve that, through the apples changing color and taste, and back again, you have to either figure out how to store them, or figure out how to not eat all of them by then.
When some sad old dream reminds you
How the endless road unwinds you”
While we walked alone and along between the Empire and GoldRush “aisles,” I told Scarlet the strangest thing, and I couldn’t believe I started talking about this. We saw hawks in the distance, circling some unlucky or soon-to-be-unlucky creature. I told her that when I was in my 20s or so, I would see birds of preys circling overhead and I would think they were coming right for me, because I was dead inside. Or that they could see something dead inside me, or soon to be dead inside. So, they circled. I’m not sure I really believed this, or if it was one of those passing bouts of darker fantasy-thinking that happen when you’re experiencing weird shifts and patterns, with maybe a touch (or deluge) of mental illness too. Of course I’ve never been dead inside, and I’m not dead inside now, but it was my fears talking. Scarlet took it all in stride when I finished my strange story. “Well. Clearly you figured out that you’re very much alive all over. Inside/outside.”
No one gives you anything?
And don’t you wonder how you keep on moving?
One more day
Whoa, your way”
Sometimes I’ll go through phases in which I think I need to be MUCH more mindful in and with my work, which I suppose happens to anyone who creates, and makes money, and even makes money to create (or creates to make money). The inspiration comes and goes, and so does the darkness, and so do the dark and circling thoughts of prey. It’s like they can tell that maybe I’m dead inside, or doubting my vitality. And it’s nothing new to think this; to write this. It’s to walk outside your usual footsteps and to think about doing stuff you do for money, and it’s not about doing them for free or not. It’s about doing them out of love and natural instinct. And in my own case, that might mean organic posts and captions and photos. Or it’s shouting out a brand and expecting nothing in return. It’s creating and sharing with vitality and aliveness for the sake of creating and sharing. Sharing laughter and love, and even darkness and sinister fears. Why? It’s because nothing else feels so right as doing that, in that moment. Social media is my example.
Even you don’t quite believe you
That’s when nothing can deceive you”
I think about that a lot lately, going from pregnancy to postpartum to pregnancy, and I’ll be postpartum again. And to go from nothing to COVID to not nothing, but not COVID all of the time, to still COVID, and to what on earth is happening with me and the supply chain and the sanity and the politics and the country and the world and families, and my family. It’s the dark and swirling thoughts of prey that may keep me up at night, so I soothe myself, when I can, with bed huskies and night writing, or bed writing and night huskies. I soothe myself with what I can.
So, yes. It’s not a novel concept, to be more mindful and in love and in color and ALIVE (so those birds of prey can’t see through you), and it’s not a novel concept, to be more kind and truthful and trustworthy and trusting. Loving, and loved. And yet, every time you go through your dark tunnels and your dark skies, it seems you temporarily forget. Yet, it’s even more powerful when you remember again. You drop it, and you pick it up. And it’s incredibly new and shiny, and full of possibility, every time. You get these chances more often than not. So, take them. And I don’t believe you can run out of chances, but you can certainly run out of steam, and you can run out of yourself. So, you find yourself again, creating, see, and sharing and loving. Even more creating, see, and sharing and loving, for the sheer sakes of doing so. And you remind yourself, every time.
And there’s nothing left worth knowing
And it’s time you should be going”