Beginning Again . . . and Again

Dusk.

The sky is that amazing deep teal color, with streaks of pale yellow and orange on the horizon. The first stars are coming out. A narrow curve of moon shines above the neighbor's trees. The quiet evening air is cool and fresh, yet still holds a hint of today's warmth. I hear the muffled plop! of acorns hitting the ground, the whir of traffic, a dog barking in the distance. But overall, the night is calm.

I love September. It's my favorite month of the year (and not only because it's my birth month, though that's a decided perk). The air turns chill and crisp, the leaves begin their turning, and I feel a new energy zinging through my mind and body. September has always been a time of beginnings for me--my birthday, school starting up, moving to new places--so that, this September, I feel this delightful freshness, though for the first time in a long time there are no big new changes in my life. It's enough simply to know that I've lived for 31 years in this world, and that, once again, I get to start afresh.

On my birthday Greg and I were in Boise, visiting our good friend Jessie. Sunday morning, we decided to take a hike in the deserty hills above the city, and set out in the early(ish) morning. The air was cold and breezy, the landscape rocky and beautifully barren but for the sagebrush, rabbitbrush, and bitterbrush scattered across the yellow hills. The sun cast sharp shadows that tumbled down the rocks and the steep slopes of the hills, and the paths we walked were sandy. Below us lay Boise, but when we descended into the valleys and the land rose up around us, all we could see was rock and sagebrush and sky. The wind blew chill and steady. Instead of minding it as I sometimes do, I had the strangely powerful feeling that it was scouring me clean, tearing free the clutter in my mind and heart, leaving me a bit raw, perhaps, but refreshed, renewed. I stood on the sandy path as it rose along the ridge, felt the sun and wind surrounding me, felt myself filled with air and light.

I am thankful for so very many chances to begin again.

Here's to new beginnings. New seasons. Garden harvest goodness. Fresh tomatoes. Yellow larch needles, flame-red maple leaves. Good work. Guitar playing. Teatime. Shifting constellations, Orion in the night sky. Crisp mornings and sunny afternoons. Time even to do yoga, to write, to create. BEing space amidst the busyness.