In the Still of Autumn
Is it just me or has everything sort of gone quiet all of a sudden? I know the world is on the precipice primarily because of the Israel/Hamas/Gaza situation as Israel pauses before making a ground incursion into Gaza. I know that the fighting Ukraine continues, but that Ukrainian fighters are infiltrating Crimea and sending more an more drones to attack Russian positions in Eastern Ukraine and in Russia itself. I understand that the House of Representatives is neutralized at the moment by the Republican caucus’ inability to choose a Speaker of the House and after having run through four (McCarthy, Scalese, Jordan and McHenry) failed candidates only to have nine more appear on the ballot for the next round. I also recognize that after all the atmospheric rivers sent our way from the Pacific in the first half of the year and the combination of a Southwestern Heat Dome and an unprecedented Pacific Hurricane this summer, we are in a lull before El Niño comes our way with what is predicted to be a wetter than normal winter in the Southern United States. But all that not withstanding, why am I hearing the ticking of the clock this morning and why does that reverberate in my ears so loudly telling me that the earth is standing still?
They say that there is always a calm before the storm and maybe this is that calm. There is also the eye of the hurricane situation and God knows we feel like we have been in a whirlwind for several years what with Trump and COVID and Ukraine. So, maybe the eye of the hurricane is paused over us at the moment and what looks like a calm stillness is actually just an indication of the torrential fury that awaits us once the system chooses to continue its march across the world. This is the problem I always seem to have. When life gets too busy and I am being pulled from pillar to post, I long for the peace and calm of home and the ability to shed obligations and activities in favor of just sitting still for a few moments. But as soon as I am still and calmed for a relatively short period of time, I start to hear the beating of my own heart and start to wonder what is next.
We are consciously deescalating our travel schedule these days. Some of that is externally-imposed given that the State Department has put Americans on notice that the world is a less friendly place towards us and the threat level has risen to an orange color. That would be more meaningful if Homeland Security hadn’t also increased the threat level within the United States. But, nonetheless, there does seem to be good reason to lay somewhat low for a while as the world calms itself and makes us less of a target for worry about reprisals from any number of quadrants. There is also a deescalation that is self-imposed for a combination of reasons ranging from our concern over our carbon footprint (for which travel is now deemed to be a major contributor), our feeling that we have just about been everywhere we want to go, and our aging status that makes us crave more comfort than excitement in our lives. I am no longer teaching, which gives my schedule a decided break in the action. Betty has departed for greener pastures and so Kim does not have a daily ritual to occupy her. Kim is also decreasing her board involvements that are vestigial connections to her old world in New York City. I am no longer directly involved with any charities and the garden can only absorb so much of my attention. The kids are also there for some attention, but they too are doing what they are supposed to do, which is moving on with their lives.
I keep reminding myself that this is a time of life when I am supposed to decrease my commitments and spend more time just looking out the window, and trust me, I feel like I do plenty of that. But as I sit here on a Monday morning with nothing in my inbox needing attention at the moment, my legs jiggling with their usual excess energy tell, I am caught in the feeling that this is the still of autumn that we both anticipate and dread. We want to be relaxed, but we want to be busy. We need to slow down, but we need to keep moving. I know that I am not alone stuck in this middle ground, but there are simply some moments when you can’t help but feel it more than at other times.
Today’s weather says that there is a 17% chance of rain. I know by now that what that means is not that the probability of rain falling on my head is 17%, but rather that 17% of the area captured as my local area by my weather app is likely to get rained upon today. Either way, that is a relatively low coefficient of concern about the weather today on this hilltop. Right now it looks cloudy and there are drops of water on my north-facing window. So far that feels like a good thing for the garden since its been warm and mostly dry of late. It also feels like that same mid-teens precipitation tendency is what the entire week holds for us whereas next week looks to be both warmer and drier. I suppose that just adds to the sense of pause or foreboding that seems to be hanging over me this morning. It is damp, but not wet. It is warm but not hot. It is cool but not cold. It is the still of autumn as the world seems to want to make a change of some sort, but seems hesitant to do so.
I take to writing to express my thoughts, but I also take to it to resolve my thinking about certain things. It helps me work through my thoughts if I am forced to commit them to prose. By writing about this feeling of stillness, I may have broken its spell on me this morning. I have even reached out to my friend Frank and initiated a suggestion that was made during our recent trip to Mendocino. I offered to write his biography. There are lots of reasons that is a good and worthwhile project. I have written what I consider to be three of four other biographies and I seem to enjoy the process. it makes me feel closer to my friend or subject and I like knowing more about how important lives are crafted and shaped. I have put the ball into his court because this is not the sort of thing you do unless the subject really has confirmed that they want it done. After we get past the initial humility veil, I suspect Frank will buy into the process and I will then have another project on my dance card to keep me busy on still mornings like this. While I have been writing this, several things have transpired in addition to my outreach to Frank. I have heard from one of my expert witness clients and that has allowed me to advance that ball one more step to completion of my rebuttal reply to some opposing expert witness reports. That was a productive step. I have also heard from another service provider about something I wanted to clear up this morning. So, as always seems to happen, in the still of my autumnal moment and as I have been reflecting upon it, life has suddenly gotten just enough busier to bust me out of this dream state on this Monday morning. So, I am once again up and at ‘em and ready to embrace my week in a way that will find that balance between peace and boredom that gets inadvertently characterized as being in the still of autumn.