Fire. And Ice.

That slow turn from Summer to Autumn always feels like a reminder, of course, of the ephemeral reality of everything. Most of the blooms will be gone by the end of the month, the leaves will have changed colour by the end of the next month, before falling and never to be seen again till next year.

Time marches on. Nature marches on.

I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so deeply connected to the turning of summer as I seem to be this time - partially, probably, because I was so desperate for it, and partially because I had a front-row seat to it every day, watching every bud and branch, every greening by degree.

As I’m on this side of the winter of one season in my life, I wonder, though, if that lowest low point I had was a dark gift for me - forcing me to ask for help, more support, to reach out to my family, to read and learn and practice a more self-compassionate way of living.

Maybe it’s the care I engaged in after those darker days that enabled me to get through the next few months without a similar drop into darkness, even while the events of my life were impossibly difficult, painful, and chaotic in ways I never could have imagined.

I know how to get through days when you feel like your actual bones might be breaking under the weight of your grief.

 I know how to get through days when you count the hours till bedtime before you even get out of bed in the morning. I know how to get through.

I know to ask for help, drink water, double down on sleep. I know to get outside and be on the lookout for beauty, especially in nature, and to read poetry and cookbooks for comfort.

I know that making soup keeps your hands busy and passes the time when you’re waiting for news.

I know that a lot of things come around eventually, that relationships get repaired, or end, that the hot sizzle of pain fades to an ache over time, that fresh air helps everything and sugar makes everything worse, at least for me.

I know I’m not the only one who has been through hard things - far from it.

Flowers are still blooming, show-offy and bright. The world is still good, still beautiful, still dazzling. And volcanoes are still bubbling in Iceland......

There’s a lot I don’t know, but there’s enough that I do.