Blindly, sleepily, obediently, knowingly, I go through the seasons where I live in the upper part of the NY state. Most people complain of the cold, the rain, the snow, and sleet. Life seeks comfort. We do not wish to feel this shift. They seek sun, warmth, comfort.

But I must appreciate the other side to know.

We talk about transformation and metamorphosis; the phoenix rising from the fire. We are in the fire-ice now.

So much has happened with my family. I am in a slump. The metaphoric train tracks are out of balance. What is my place? Why was I made to feel such obligation? It pulls me away from the other side. I am getting old.

If I can objectify this, I can move forward. Be clear and honest.

I lie in the fire leaves called maple. It is both wet, cold, and magnificent. Like autumn. I must feel this completely and courageously, so I truly know empathetically for others.

I go back to the metaphoric sea, my core when I have this descending blanket encroaching.

I am painting again, this sea, my first mother. I must learn from mother sea. I need to float and surrender to her waves, to enter what is next.

Lie back, for now and feel the wet autumn leaves under you and look to the sky and be.