The Rapture of Autumn

My favorite thing about nature is how achingly romantic it is. There are times of year, like October, when that romance is so heightened, it thrills me. I love the way the wind becomes enraptured with the trees, unable to keep itself from touching and tickling and disheveling every last leaf. I love the way the thick clouds on a stormy day gently embrace the moon, letting just enough gauzy light through that the whole sky looks like silk. I love the way the leaves blush, and the flowers of summer begin to bend longingly toward the earth. 

The spirits watch, almost jealously, and try to make contact, missing the exquisite beauty of this time of year. And we see, hear, and feel them, hovering as closely as they are. We might feel a little haunted, a little sad, a little incomplete...but rapturously so, like that quiet moment on a second or third date when you both know you're about to kiss. 

I desire everything at this time of year. Dark, salted chocolate filled with caramel. Sitting by the fire under a fuzzy blanket. A kiss at the very base of my neck that always makes me shiver down to my toes. 

I have been known to literally exhaust myself with feelings of longing. If I were an actress in the silent film era, you'd see me belly-crawling across the floor in a ripped white dress, reaching out, my eyes almost desperate. I wouldn't need words. 

The truth is, I love this feeling. I love the way desire fires up my creativity. And seeing nature mirror this hunger within me gets me from 0 to 60 miles per hour in about 2 seconds. 
I am learning to make a space for it, to honor it, rather than ride the high and let it eventually burn me out. I still use it to fuel my creative projects, but I pull back just a little bit, reminding myself several times a day that this energy can be directed in a way that it keeps building, instead of flaming out. 

I use desire as a reminder that I deserve to be caressed by the wind just like the leaves do. I deserve the support and embrace of the universe, the same way the moon deserves the support and embrace of the clouds. And I give myself permission to bend longingly toward what I want, the way the flowers of summer bend toward the earth. 

I take a chance and contact someone I haven't talked to in a long time. I clear one of the nightstands by my bed to create space for the man who might like to stack his books there. I cuddle up in my chair, under my blanket, with hot tea and my knitting. I volunteer to do a project I've been thinking about for months. I bend toward it all. 

There is no better time than this to act on our desire. The whole world is drunk with longing at this time of year (even in the Southern Hemisphere, where their world is just waking up with perfumed blossoms). Everything is reaching out, yearning to connect. 

Let yourself bend toward it, with total abandon.