Getting some quiet reprieve for the first time in a while. Enjoying the stillness of the room, the warmth of this quilt, and the profound sense of emptiness that comes with the release of something heavy.
This Vata time of year is usually a thrilling challenge. I tend to enjoy the movement, the shift from summer choas to the regimine of fall and the slight struggle to step in time to a new rhythm. Of course, there are a few weeks where everything feels off, like I forgot how to walk or breathe and I’m blowing around in the ether like the leaves, but eventually everything settles – pulled back to the earth by the waning light and gravity. Not this time.
This season I’ve been untethered. I’ve been like the Japanese Yurei, wandering the earth without legs or feet to ground me to the earth. Not without purpose, but fragile in substance and sustenance. I wish I knew the difference this year. I wish I could identify the exact reason why I feel so adrift, bobbing in the midst of a stormy sea.
But, I don’t.
The strange part is that it’s ok… The not knowing. The lack of answers in my own brain- the emptiness that echoes back at me when I ask a question- feels uniquely refreshing. With emptiness comes space, an expansiveness that was once cluttered. And I’m content with the wisdom that being with the emptiness creates more appreciation of the fullness.