I've acquired a very sore spot just below my rib cage on the right side. Sometimes I hardly notice it while at other times it aches so badly it brings tears to my eyes. I'm sure it will go away soon. In the meantime, it acts as a reminder to the thought: we carry our grief in our lungs.

I used to watch the TV show "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." I liked it - except for a season/episode here and there - and often miss the silly complacency it could evoke. But in a more serious moment, Xander says "Why blood?" Spike replies: "Blood is life, lackbrain. Why do you think we eat it? It's what keeps you going. Makes you warm. Makes you hard. Makes you other than dead." Ok, so it's probably pretty lame that I looked around for the actual quote (isn't the internet an amazing source of meaningless stuff?) but that's not the point. Blood, air, life, death; it's all tied together.

I'm thinking (as you probably are) "Of course it's all tied together." But seriously ponder the point. How often do you think about the simple connection? I don't think I consider it often enough. Consider this, as well: we are all tied to each other through these things. Setting aside the possibility of the undead being part of your private circle, no matter how different we all are we share this fundamental basis.

No, I suppose I don't really have a point. Today I feel a little like breathing out some of this... stuff inside and being a little more human. A little less complicated. It feels a little like the first drag of a cigarette after a long abstention - satisfying and a little dizzying.

I miss people today. Not in a depressed, sad kind of a way. More of a sweet meloncholia that doesn't hurt too much to hold on to or let go of.

The changing season gets me again...

Weather Walking

I was talking to the neighbor about the usual mundane things when the world went quiet and still.
I was dazed for a moment, then sat down on the sidewalk in desperation. I missed the full color saturation of existence in a visceral way.
Embarrassed, I clawed my way to my feet and stumbled to my own porch,
Waiting for the bend of reality to pass.
In my adult life, few things have frightened me more then that moment of dullness.

In combat readiness, I have tried to fill my mind with bright, shiny things. Mirrors surrounding sparkling pools of blue water,
As if somehow these things will hold the darkness at bay.
I stand quietly, so that the stillness cannot sneak up on me again.
I am not so naturally inclined to the bright; the effort is wearying.

My personal calendar has a beautiful page dedicated to the start of each season. If it is to be believed, Fall is coming soon.
The sophisticated celebration on the page uses the term Autumn, as if to fool me, but I am relieved to find the soothing night closer to hand.
Autumn feels safer than summer has been - I can sense a promise of change.