A bit of beautiful decay
Current temp: 39° F | High/Low: 43°/33°
Goldenrod (Snowberries)
Crocosmia (Grass, shh)
Asters
I feel a little decayed this season. Not in the sense that I’m going bad. More like I’m ready for some sloughing off, purging, skin shedding. De-composing. Shapeshifting.
Which is a bit of a mind-fuck for someone who was socialized to take full responsibility and hold “it” all together as far back as she can remember. In my house, I had to be solid. Sturdy. Like a rock wall. Or a tower for seeing fire and storms coming.
How does one even begin to de-compose? Let loose? Let go?
How will I examine and make decisions about what’s worth holding on to and what’s corrosion or muck I never meant to shovel in to the scene or pick up in the first place?
I’m going to re-read Wintering for comfort, communion, and inspiration.
As much as I resent the cold this time of year, I think walks (for as long as I can manage) will be helpful.
I want to move 27 things in every room (and multiples of 27 from the garage, good gracious) as a practice in higher standards, mindful and useful structures, and auto-pilot lights and habits that need turning off. Doing this on the 27th sounds right!
Who doesn’t love a good clean out before sitting down to the hard work of making again? Anew?
Clean out the stuff that’s just decay and make space for something new, pink, maybe a bit tender and raw, but simpler or more essential for and within/without myself and my relationship with materialism, householding, and paid work.
It feels like I’m upon a good time for shedding that decay, calling it for what it is, ripping at bits, stripping it out, and perhaps even unfastening altogether.
What’s under the bed? The rug? Oh, why not look under the floorboards, too?
I know I’ve got the stones. I’ve been piling them up forever. What else can I construct with them? Is it time for crushing them into gravel and paving a path rather than fortifying my tower and walls?
