The show (of sun-sunshine-summer) has ended. That was that. The air is erupting its content, its melancholia, its promises: the inevitable. It is the end and it is imminent.
Here I am, sitting back and taking it in, letting myself fall on the gravity of reality. And THE questions arise: have I done enough this year? Am I where I need to be?
It feels inconvenient, pointless.
It is the point where you feel confused, wearing nice shoes that were good -but not anymore. Cool is not enough. Not at night when you are walking back home, and the cold breeze crossing the bit of skin that has no clothes creeps into your bones, and then into your blood, so the cold blood can now distribute coldness into your hands, your chest, your head, and in places you didn’t know belonged to our body.
I get this weird feeling.
The silence that has invaded spaces feels weird to me, all crowded with “thinking clouds”, people thinking immense chains/clouds of thoughts, grey rain clouds that have no drawings, no songs. Not this time. In Autumn they become lists, names and numbers of appointments. They look more like outlook, a spreadsheet with multiple tabs. And everyone is standing a bit stiffer, in that “it’s complicated” status, a “I’m so uncomfortable- please don’t make me move/talk/smile” status.
So I wonder how quick can time go, why not just sum it all and call it “game over” so it can be Christmas and at least jolly and festive. Let’s just get this over with.
But it is/can be a creative time. It is beautiful melancholic hygge.
I read somewhere, in a poster maybe, these words:
What if you fall ..
what if you fly?
And they got me thinking:
This is the question. To fall or to fly. Is gravity a force that can only push you down? Is it the only option of reality? Or, can falling in wonderful ways be reality that is up?
I can choose to fly (fall in the coolest possible way). It is a perfect time for flying.
So I did a list, a to-do list (and they are 7):
#1. START. Think about it as that new journal that you keep buying because the white pages just look so clean and untouched. Connect with it, and commit to writing on every page. Feel the freshness of a pencil that you have just sharpened, or a new marker that slides and smells oh! so promising. Take that promise. Start now that thing. Make that call. Get yourself a new journal or maybe rescue your old one, locked somewhere in a drawer. Rescue the ideas that got trapped in between shopping lists. Give them a chance to see the light of the day. Connect their floating balloons to rocks of commitment and possibility.
It all starts where it ends.
#2. Love the awkwardness of silence. It is quieter. Take in the beauty of that awkwardness and really listen (make notes). Silence makes you present. The noise is gone, and this is when you can hear THE questions, so be ready.
#3. GET sorted. Get enough of supply of that thing (tea/coffee/books/candles/TV series or comedy-something). Think of the promise, of the experience.
#4. Be home-ready with all the bits and nice things that you obviously need to create harmony and love (and make it/get it hyggeligt). Being home is not necessarily bad. Your “window conversation” or “window display” is now full-on active and talking, a little wooden bird is just where it needs to be.
Arrange your selected objects so each one of them can sense the other, not too close, not too far, and be sure they know what they are doing. Sit back and let them play while they inhabit the fullness of your heart/home.
#5. Become one with the weather. The sky is not a stranger anymore, not a rock star too famous to see you, too busy being *Oh! summer. Now, you understand each other. You can be partners in crime, sort of buddies, nothing fancy. Honest rain, honest cold, honest you. Have your rain boots ready, jump out, and smash it! Make your everyday routine feel epic, deep, worthwhile. Get a little wet. If you have not yet noticed how beautiful the light is at this time of the year in the mornings (in Denmark it is a bit pink!) and how the shadows start looking long and gorgeous, just have a look. And know that at some point the sun will touch your face, like hitting you suddenly in the eye (not in the head. In the eye!).
And once you are face to face, converse, have a chat about those questions that arise at this time of the year to get you going, and get it going. Be grateful for those moments with the bull (turned wise big-eyed owl) staring at you, slapping you without touching you, loving you like that.
#6. Get into a love project, something different. While you are standing on the fertile creative grounds of melancholia, the pleasure of facing the inevitable, the sweetness of almost, of “could have” of “what if” of “I love you so much” (Yeah!- gotta throw that one in there), a project will come up.
#7. BE back, back from wherever you were, back to normality. Now that life gets going and the stories of summer houses and road trips and camping have ended, some “interesting” projects will start or are about to start, and even if there is no “interesting” happening, you are there, doing it, having a go at whatever you do.
There you go.
It can be awfully confronting and like, why? but, it is good. Now that all things are settled and expectant, I can give the text I read (I touch and scroll in diverse screen devices) more than 7 seconds, just because, I will make something meaningful and productive out of them. And I can stare at the bits of dust floating on a volume of pink light that discretely occupies a bit of my living room at 8 am-that time of the day. I will love all of it, because I now recognise the owl-sun behind it, behind a present/gift.
And I will say thank you.
Because even when the sky looks like a heavy thick uni-cloud that has swallowed the sun, I know I can choose to fly, to embrace all the in-betweens, the “I’m stuck” WTF feeling. I can let the little flame ignite my creative fire.
Life might not always be happy or sunny and all red apples and Instagram moments that you could very soundly call #perfect. Life might not be love at first sight. But it WILL be love ultimately. Even when it is all out of sight, there is love (and this is the hygge melancholia I’m talking about). It might sound like I’m romanticising the whole thing, what is just transitional awkwardness (with nothing going on), a glass that only optimists can see half full. But here is the thing that will set you free (and help you fly): it is not anymore about the water in the glass. Step back and have a good look at that awesome glass. Muted, it is all that silence that is refreshing and honest. Even if there is no water, trust me, the water will come.
The drops are there. There is no such thing as empty. Look at the glass that you are, a hell of a beautiful glass.
1. I live in Aarhus (pronounced O-hus), so my perception of Autumn is formally and openly filtered by the tint of my glasses, in Denmark.
2. When I think of flying, and what could seem magic/ falling wonderfully and embracing the mysterious line where time transitions, I think of Albert Einstein. Everyone puts his face in quotes that who knows where they came from, but I’m really sure he said this: “The most beautiful and deepest experience a man can have is the sense of the mysterious. To sense that behind anything that can be experienced there is a something that our mind cannot grasp and whose beauty and sublimity reaches us only indirectly and as a feeble reflection, this is religiousness. In this sense I am religious. To me, it suffices to wonder at these secrets and to attempt humbly to grasp with my mind a mere image of the lofty structure of all that there is.”
3. And by “Window conversation”, this is what I mean: It is a collection of things that are placed in windows in ways that I find quite happy. I call it “the happiness of things”. It seems to me like a little party, and an invitation to be kissed or hugged by the sun, so rare, so far yet so close.