The Setting Summer Sun

It seems to me I notice the passing of the seasons at the first sign of change. Right now, the shadows are lengthening; there is a bite to Wind again, at times, and Sun's warmth doesn't last overnight.

Storms that occur are showing the gentle side of their faces; they will gain in ferocity as time passes. Here, on the East Side of the Island, there can be less Rain than on the West, however, the Wind Storms happen more often.

In the shade, too, there is an underlying cool touch on the skin, reminding me of crisp, cool Autumn days.

But it is still Summer, in children's eyes. Each day is a shimmering jewel, an unknown path in which to explore the minutest speck of life. The World is filled with possibilities, each more enticing than the last. It is a thrilling season; children do not notice the passage of time, they do not notice the lengthening shadows...

In the adult world, however, it is time to return to schedules and routines, it is time to gather the required accessories to those routines...the school clothing, the school supplies, the planning of activities, the equipment needed to execute those extracurricular activities...

And children, jolted out of that freedom Summer brings, are required to make choices, difficult ones, for them. A day is a long time; a three month stint at Piano lessons is a lifetime.

As I sat on my stoop the other day, contemplating the day, a little girl and her mother walked by, just having come from the Pool up the road. They were discussing the upcoming Autumn season...they were discussing which of those extra activities the little girl might take.

It turns out the child wanted to take swimming lessons; mother explained that the rule was one sport and one creative activity for the Fall season. She explained to her daughter the choice was similar to Tap Dancing and Piano lessons. So if she wanted Swimming, then there could be no Soccer.

And her little one asked, with real apprehension...But Dad wants me to take Soccer. Will I make him mad?

As they drifted out of my range of hearing, I remembered another overheard conversation, this one situated in the School Supplies department of a local store. A small boy and his father were choosing amongst the brightly coloured binders, different shades of pens and crayons of every known hue. The boy's eyes were what drew me...his expression as he stared at the amazing array of colour was awestruck, as if he'd suddenly discovered a passion he hadn't realized he had.

He was beyond words, touching the paints, the crayons, the brightly coloured paper, with reverence, as if he couldn't imagine there was anything in the World this beautiful...

His father was occupied with a book on World Soccer. His son's unusual quiet contemplation jolted his awareness; he watched the boy for awhile, his eyes softening, a look of knowing...of understanding... entering his expression.

Would Mom be mad if I took Drawing instead of Piano?...asked his boy.

No, his father said, with conviction, No, she wouldn't be angry.

Sometimes choices, in parenting, must be made for another, in the Autumn, when the Summer Sun sets. When a child discovers that choices can make another angry, can make someone else disappointed, can change the whole World overnight, he finds there are consequences to following his dreams.

So, sometimes dreams become just that...a wish for a different way, a yearning for an inexplicable passion...when a choice is made to please another. And sometimes, there is another close at hand who understands there may be different dreams, a gift coming out of nowhere for the lucky recipient. And who will stand strong in favour of it.

The Air is rife with the choices, the promises, the new cycles that begin when the Summer Sun hangs lower in the Sky. Unfulfilled dreams do seem to fill, as the days shorten, gathering urgency. Agonizing decisions are made, compromises agreed upon.

It is the way of things...this turning of the Wheel, and the changes, good and bad, that it brings. The opportunities taken and the chances lost...children learn very early these days that choices must be made, and that those choices don't always follow the dreams that are inside.

But for young children, the warm, sunny August days, the ones that seem to have no end, beckon, letting dreams and aspirations for the upcoming season fall away.

September's Sun seems far away, fading into the background, when right now, there is still so much to see and do...right now, this very moment.

And so it goes.

Road Anarchy

Don't you just want to go, on some days deep in the heart of Winter, on a road trip, destin- ation unknown? There are many people I know who have the wanderlust spirit, taking trips here and there...mostly organized trips, over the Winter months. Cabin fever averted.

But I'm a homebody...one who usually finds comfort and peace in the rooms of my house. Long months away from where I am at my most tranquil would be difficult.

Every once in awhile, however, on the spur of the moment, I want to do what a hairdresser pal of mine once referred to as Road Anarchy. As he cut my hair, we discussed trips and vacations. I mentioned one of my favourite things to do is to leave everything behind, and drive where I am guided, or where the whim of the moment leads. Ungoverned and unfettered.

To turn left, off the beaten path...or right. To take a bumpy road, perhaps, one that doesn't look as if anyone has used it for a long time. Maybe, just over that steep, deeply runnelled hill that lies at the end of this road, there is a Stream that burbles over sunlit Pebbles.

And perhaps, there will be a large sun-kissed Boulder that cools his bottom in the singing Stream. I will sit, letting Bird Song rise and fall into my consciousness; letting the words from Wind filter in and out...

And I will listen to the stories from the Trees that cluster here, on the side of this Singing Stream. Stories of long ago, when they were seedlings...of awe and humbleness and gratefulness for each and every drop of Rain and shaft of Sunlight. Stories of wisdom and peace and stillness, when Winter Snow leaves a hush over the land.

If I am fortunate, I will meet wildlife I haven't met before and exchange greetings. Perhaps Deer or Grandfather Bear may meander to the Stream for a drink, and our eyes will meet, recognizing in the other a kindred soul.

Or Eagle may grace me with his presence, sending his message from Spirit. He will ride the Wind flow for long, long moments, dipping and balancing. I feel his eyes, keen as the point on a blade, search for mine, as he soars...at one with the silent currents of Air.

And after awhile of sitting on that Rock, I will become as One with all the elements that surround me...silent and still, but with so much to say...

I might wonder, at some point, where I am. But this is the beauty of taking a road trip of unknown destinations. It doesn't matter where I am, I just am.

And when I return, for I shall always return to the Home of my Heart...back down that previously unknown road, back the way I came...I will remember the stories I heard, the messages given to me, and the sorrows I gave to the Stream, who kindly washed them clean.

And I will remember how, for an afternoon, I became a peaceful road warrior, one who practiced anarchy, left sorrow behind and found beautiful, pacific moments... in the arms of Mother Nature.

Even if the anarchy only happened in my imagination.