Skip to main content

Autumn Haze

 My meditation this morning read, "The world has more depth in autumn. So, it seems does my soul." 

My first reaction was bullshit. Then I reminded myself this was supposed to be the quiet, reflective, meditative beginning to my morning, not a contentious reflection or a brow-beating. Fall is a difficult feeling in Florida where it is still 90 degrees, sunny, and lushly green.

I wonder if anyone else feels like everything tangible is just out of reach? Half of the year so far has been spent in limbo; quarantine, shut down, social distancing, open, not open, cancelled, half capacity. Even my students appear as little tiny squares on my computer screen; intangible, just out of reach. 

After a stint in the hospital, I find it necessary to downshift and live in a lower gear. This is not the place I am accustomed to but the place that will keep me healthy. I'm grateful for the ability to recognize burnout before I was completely charred. Setting the world on fire comes with risks. 

In her book 'Simple Abundance,' Sarah Ban Breathnach describes first-degree burnout as "the soul snuffer. It comes from living unbalanced for years; when what was supposed to be a temporary situation becomes a lifestyle." 

"Writing about a writer's block is better than not writing at all."

August 8th was the last time my characters in #Scattered talked to me; they too seem just out of reach. Living in the shadows, afraid to step into the light. Dwelling on the fringes of my consciousness refusing to speak, reluctant to call attention to themselves. I've tried my normal methods of channeling the fictional characters; long walks before sunrise, riding my muse Bessie, awakening in the middle of the night to write....to no avail. My brain is like a runaway freight train carrying a mixed bag of random, non-sensical thoughts. 

My first chapter of #Scattered and the character descriptions were 'workshopped' by my writer's group - The Sister Scribe Circle - in September. I value this group of talented, creative, and soulful women...their opinion matters. The group suggested I rework Tish and Ann as their characters were not exactly 'true' to themselves and I agree. I've lived with Tish and Ann exactly how they are for almost a year now, its proving difficult to 'see' them any other way. I feel perhaps my need to downshift has stifled my writing. Only time will tell.

After a full day of online teaching my brain is fried. Teaching used to energize me, not zap me of my energy. eSchool is a soul-crushing experience for this educator. My mantra is "Someday I will wake up, eSchool will be a bad memory and Donald Trump will not be President."

Autumn ushers in the seasons of celebration, a shedding of the old, a prelude to hibernation and the renewal of spring. 

"The fields are harvested and bare,
And Winter whistles through the square.
October dresses in flame and gold
Like a woman afraid of growing old."
~ Anne Mary Lawler


Debi Tolbert Duggar is the author of the book #RidingSoulo
Available from Bessieandme.com or online wherever books are sold.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Waning Light

  There are times I dread the waning light of day, That golden hour which precedes the night. The night brings sad memories. The night brings old terrors. The night brings lonely hours, Sleepless hours, Blackness filled with sorrow. The darkness carries the quiet, the quiet commands the truth. The night accentuates my aloneness; it echoes my fears. The darkness makes me yearn for my children and for my loved ones long gone. The night plays a melancholy tune in my head. The night makes me yearn for the light of day when everything is new once again.                                                                                                     ~ Author: Debi Tolbert Duggar   As a...
Post a Comment
Read more

#Scattered_TheBox

     Bree sat silent in the passenger seat of Della’s Range Rover as they drove away from the city towards Bree’s farmhouse. Della respected her friends silence, glancing furtively towards Bree, checking for what? Della didn’t know; was there a protocol for ‘how to act when your friend is told she has a few months to live?’ Della wasn’t sure and at this moment her heart hurt as if it were being squeezed by a giant hand intent on crushing the organ in her chest.       Della met Bree Maxwell at the registrar’s office in 1974 at the University of Chicago. Just two long-haired hippie chicks in bell bottom denims and crop tops among thousands, struggling to look cool while simultaneously overwhelmed by the process of registering for classes. The two became fast friends and shortly thereafter they met Tish and Ann, also freshman. The foursome became inseparable and forged a bond that has endured four decades.         Bree is the...
Post a Comment
Read more

Summer Road Trip_The Warehousians

June 16, 2012 In the summer of 1969, when everyone old enough and hip enough was flocking to Yasgar's Farm in upstate New York for a music festival called Woodstock, I and most of my friends were looking forward to starting high school. The tidal wave of rock n roll, free love, tye-dye, psychedelics, and peace was just beginning to roll across the country from the west coast; it would find willing participants in the sleepy little mid-western town I grew up in. It was music that brought us together in the early '70's at a seemingly abandoned building in downtown Marion Indiana (righteously name The 7th Street Warehouse), and it was music that brought us together Saturday night in a building once occupied by Freel and Mason drugstore in downtown Marion some 40 years later for a first attempt at a 'reunion' of sorts. Our 'Prophet,' Duke, started a Facebook Page about a year ago, called the '7th Street Warehouse People,' which mushroomed (no pun intend...
Post a Comment
Read more