FALL BEGINS (OF BEAD WORK, CHAGA, DOGS, MELVILLE, CONRAD, CASTANEDA, THE COOL AUTUMNAL AIR, AND OTHER)

The temperature has dropped and the heat has broken. Thank God. It was too humid. The fall can begin and a sunny day so called can be warm, but remain pleasant without it’s over arching oppressive sun and humidity. The dogs and I walked seamlessly and languidly through the cool forest paths realizing what we knew all along: That our path, literal and figurative, was not far off the mark to begin with, was, in fact, right on the mark,- poetic, beautiful, imbued and strewn with grace, mystery, and even a sort of natural and sometimes metaphysical magic. God, how nice it was to go back to the routine of the forest paths and the open fields, of the little stream and what’s more, the butterfly and butterflies were following us as totems, as angels, as guides, as messages. After, - a snack and coffee on the way back, - and the world was kicking into perfection once more, - for autumn is the best season of all, - the creative month, the month of sleeping and living dreams, of jeans and khakis and sweaters, of prose poems submitted or not (it doesn’t matter what the world sees or not, but only the creative process, procedure, soul-profit).

After doing many things, it was time to make Chaga tea, - and out came the pieces, the glass, the boiling water, the ice to cool it down a bit after, - and the tea is thickly dark the way I like it. This tea will help with everything from blood to digestion to dreams and intention and more. It is wildly popular in some circles, and though my harvesting days are over for now (I have enough), I am a fan, a convert, and believe though self-evidence of its healing and helpful effects for the mind, body, and spirit. Plus, - it’s fun and soulful to make. So, there is the coolness, the breeze, the wind in the night, the restful dogs, and the chaga in a Mason jar-glass.

And what else? Melville was read and Melville is over for now, - obviously passionate and a genius of sorts, the
most dedicated to his cause perhaps, and a curious soul though, - odd. What a gift though to have been able to have read him. Who shall be next in the canon or out of the canon? I just don’t know. I just scan through Conrad, - would love to read Nostromo, - and do not understand why I have not gotten my hands on this book! - I once had in fact but lent it or lost it. For some reason, - this is the work that is coming through, - the one that must be read, learned about, so forth. I shall have to go look for it inside at least one used bookstore that I know about and have gotten lucky with before. I look in the meantime through the Bhagavad Gita and feel I understand its words. I also skim through and re-read that wonderful scoundrel Castaneda, who probably forged his work, - but somehow, and I don’t know how, - has truths (many of them) inside of it, and more than that, - things that are put astoundingly well and interesting.
For good measure some beads were bought and stringed upon pieces of actual yarn, - good cord, and necklaces were made, - light and bright and intentionally faded colors, but most all colors, - and they celebrate themselves, - (just plain round ones), and nature (some butterflies), and a pleasant surprise, (Halloween, - for I found in the package that there were some skeleton skulls and pumpkins). There is much to do, and one must not forget visiting the old farm out of the way and on the way to other counties, - the one with hundreds of gourds, pumpkins, groupings of straw and hay and other. Oh autumn with her night moon and the constellations even and maybe especially when they are dusted and clouded over, quietly obscure, playfully coy, and seem to move ‘round the firmament. I feel somehow that survival has been won, that some victory has been achieved by seeing and sensing and living through to witness all these seasons and the next and the next and the next. Ah autumn, - a lover that was absent but whose memory was kept in the green chakra of the chest cavity! like a letter, a kiss, a promissory note,- its more than good to see her again.

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