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Seasons Past, Seasons Passed

IMG_3802Back to school shopping
cool weather,
shorter days,
acorns plop,
tinted leaves crunch under my feet.
yellow. orange.
red and brown.


iciclesChristmas shopping
bundle up,
day gives way,
a dusting of white,
hollow, whistling wind stings my face.
black. white.


humingbird B FullerEaster shopping
warm sunshine,
moist buds,
dampened earth encourages its blooms
merry pitches delight my ear.
pink. purple.
golden and lilac.


IMG_2968Travel shopping
blistering heat,
day, please stay,
humming cicadas welcome bright butterflies,
warm sprinklers douse my sneakers.
green. green. brown.

Come, go, come, go.
Regular as the tide,
as the sun, as the moon, as the stars.

I am
not a season,
not a regular,
not fixed in the universe.

I come
with empty hands,
with full heart,
with agile mind in slowing body.

It is
the me that changes
against the glory of days,
of season’s greetings and departures,
of life gone on
in neighboring houses.

IMG_6762I am
here, as ever have been.
what day?
what weather?
what smell, what sound,
what touch?

Does anyone know?

Perhaps I am bi-polar by design?

Who am I? Am I a health and fitness professional who likes to write? Or am I a writer who likes to be healthy and fit? One day I’m one; the next day I am the other. Can’t I just “arrive” already?

Today’s answer is no. Every time I land in one camp I am propelled toward the other. When I move, I think of all the things that need writing about. When I write, all the people come to mind who have dreams I might help them meet. In other words, I am caught in a vicious cycle. Well, not vicious, more like perpetual.

Perhaps this is because I am the same in each camp. My identity remains the same. The person I was created to be just circulates between viewpoints. Continuously. And, just so I don’t get too comfortable in one realm, the minute I snuggle on in, I get these pings. Toward the other.

It feels very much, as I come to write about it (yes), as if I am in orbit around two large planets, each with their own gravitational pulls. As I approach one, I am drawn into its orbit and slow in my revolution but then, when I emerge from the ‘dark side’ I see the other planet and I am sling-shotted toward it… where I experience the same pull and the same slow and the same slingshot. I am caught in a celestial oval.

That’s not a bad thing I guess. I am moving, churning, passionately competing. All, while slowing on the turns and sprinting the straightaways. And each time friction or gravity threatens to claim me, I am launched again. Fast and furious. Full of ideas and energy.

Then I slow again. To consider, study, perform, delve.

Imagine, I’ve spent all these years trying to decide what I would be when I grow up and God has split me in two. Both of them me. Fully me. Propulsion, it seems, He has designed into the equation.

Don’t ask me the equation. I was never much good at physics.

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