Seasonal Rivalry

The clouds are rolling in. It has been sunny for a good long time, longer than most, so it makes sense. Can’t have too much of a good thing. Ordinarily they arrive unnoticed, or I turn a blind eye until I can no longer deny their existence. Each day waking to a dimmer atmosphere, the ache and heaviness gradually increasing in my joints. I would give in, letting the comfortableness of the heavy take over – like a weighted blanket of grief, unpleasant but familiar and oddly safe.

This season I give a nod to the arrival, watching from a comfortable distance as it attempts to descend into my being.  I feel the dampness in my bones, my thoughts.

I resist with a daily reminder to seek joy. It was my mistake to think it was coming naturally now, bringing with it a feeling of calm, gentle loving kindness towards myself. It was all going so well. I cling to my promise to stay in it. Keep a foot outside the dimness, at the very least a toe, always.

I will not give in, though I understand there will be days when it will all be too heavy. I will gracefully allow for a moment to cover myself with the grief blanket and rest, for there is comfort in doing so. I will not allow it to creep up and cover me entirely. I will do the hard tasks of preparing myself for this year’s storm, setting up emergency lighting for darkened paths. I will move even when my feet are cased in cement because to get out of the shadows you must reposition. It’s too easy to lay in wait until they leave, too long to let time slip away, too much agony in the waiting, when we can crawl, stagger, roll if we must somewhere, anywhere else.

The impulse to surrender will be met with a mélange of tolerance and resistance. There will be a shift in consciousness and with it a more authentic, peaceful season.