More than once this week, I just had to pull over to snap a few photos like these, even if it meant risking the wrath of cyclists and Type A motorists. But, as I drove around, oohing and aahing like it was Fourth of July, my appreciation for the fiery colors bursting off the trees sat curiously alongside a creeping, leaden, grey, fog- inside.
Heavy- legged and low energy, I’ve grumped along now for days. It seems the more I “try” to energize myself, the more confused I am by the difference between the sparkling October light and my inner meh.
Could I be exhausted after all the excitement of the workshop and the intensity of preparation? Sure.
Note to self: build in a day or two of zero commitments after a workshop day. Recovery time – it may actually be essential.
Seems obvious, but it wasn’t to me, and now it goes into the notes on what might be better next time, along with bringing a microphone so I can be heard more clearly over the music.
After some rest and acknowledging the blahs, I tried some tenderness by refraining from too much judgement about not getting to the exciting things I’d planned to do or writing blog posts (oh, the “shoulds” over this one took awhile). Better, but still dragging.
Enter the bear. Downstage right.
Be forewarned, I talk to bears when they show up asking questions.
“Did you forget me? She’s rumbling, but not in a scary way.
Did you forget that animals change their behavior when the seasons change? Uh, I guess so. I wasn’t really paying attention.
“Exactly. You people-types may be able to keep the lights on in the dark, have babies during any season, and eat peaches in February, but sometimes I think you’d miss a salmon jumping out of river right in front of your snout. My dear Judith (so formal these bears), you are an animal too.”
Yes. I forgot. I’m going to lumber off now to find out more about what it means to be a bear. Join me?