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...though not one I'll follow regularly. No RSS or atom feed that I could find, as is often the case with blogger-based blogs in particular (not a lack of technology, but an option that I think defaults to off or did).
At any rate, Kathryn (syndicated at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
mindfullife) referred to this post by Siona today. I'm going to quote the same piece she did, in fact:
Yes. Yes, yes, yes. We are living in the world; how could we be other than affected by it? Whether this is illusion or the core of truth, we experience life through our bodies and our senses, and they are tied to the space they are in, to the air and the wind and the rain and the sun and the earth cool and hard beneath our feet.
Of course, I am quite the opposite, myself, of the experience she writes about - for as the cool of fall comes, as the house grows chill and the rains descend - these light misty sprinkles where it doesn't even look to be raining, yet everything stays wet, pinpricks of water on your face; all the way to the wild storm pouring rain down so hard you can barely see to move about in it - as fall comes on in force, I become more alive, happier. No longer the heavy weight of inescapable heat dragging me down, or hiding back into the few spaces where it's controlled away from that; no longer the too-long light of the days, pretty, missed when it goes, but somehow not quite right; no longer the bland wide-open sky of summer heat, pretty but in many ways unwelcome. There's beauty in summer, and joy, but it's remarkably pale of life, here. We water and water to preserve our plants through that season for a reason. And then the rains come and I at least relax. How anyone who gets moody in the rain can stand to stay in this part of the state for more than a year, I have no idea. It's not suited to them. But for me it is almost perfect. To stand outside, to let the wind tangle my hair up and the rain spatter over me...it's glorious.
It's funny, too, how I react depending on expectations. I went out to get the mail yesterday, and it was raining lightly - a drop here, a drop there - and I just walked in it, face turned up, a bit sorry that it was not actually doing more. When it was storming on Friday, I was running through it toward the house, laughing - and I wanted to go back out as soon as I didn't have the laptop and such in hand any more (those being the main reason I'd been running). I should have. When did I learn I have to be grownup, and not go out and stand in the rain and laugh? It's beautiful....
At any rate, Kathryn (syndicated at
mindfullife) referred to this post by Siona today. I'm going to quote the same piece she did, in fact:I'm inordinately affected by the weather. It took me a long time to admit this; for years I refused to acknowledge that my moods might be linked to something as improbable and distant as the sky. I was a rational person, I thought; my emotions were linked to that which mattered, and not some butterfly flapping its wings in the Amazon. Now I'm less embarrassed by my sensitivity. I'm an animal. I reside in a body that resides in the world that itself reclines under a pulsing membrane of pressure and weather and rain. How can my own cells ignore the atmosphere around me? How can my bones disregard the heaviness of the air? How can I not fail to respond to the sun on a clear day? It's more embarrassing to me now to think that I once believed I should be capable of ignoring all this. I'm attuned to the world. We all are. And I no longer mind.
Yes. Yes, yes, yes. We are living in the world; how could we be other than affected by it? Whether this is illusion or the core of truth, we experience life through our bodies and our senses, and they are tied to the space they are in, to the air and the wind and the rain and the sun and the earth cool and hard beneath our feet.
Of course, I am quite the opposite, myself, of the experience she writes about - for as the cool of fall comes, as the house grows chill and the rains descend - these light misty sprinkles where it doesn't even look to be raining, yet everything stays wet, pinpricks of water on your face; all the way to the wild storm pouring rain down so hard you can barely see to move about in it - as fall comes on in force, I become more alive, happier. No longer the heavy weight of inescapable heat dragging me down, or hiding back into the few spaces where it's controlled away from that; no longer the too-long light of the days, pretty, missed when it goes, but somehow not quite right; no longer the bland wide-open sky of summer heat, pretty but in many ways unwelcome. There's beauty in summer, and joy, but it's remarkably pale of life, here. We water and water to preserve our plants through that season for a reason. And then the rains come and I at least relax. How anyone who gets moody in the rain can stand to stay in this part of the state for more than a year, I have no idea. It's not suited to them. But for me it is almost perfect. To stand outside, to let the wind tangle my hair up and the rain spatter over me...it's glorious.
It's funny, too, how I react depending on expectations. I went out to get the mail yesterday, and it was raining lightly - a drop here, a drop there - and I just walked in it, face turned up, a bit sorry that it was not actually doing more. When it was storming on Friday, I was running through it toward the house, laughing - and I wanted to go back out as soon as I didn't have the laptop and such in hand any more (those being the main reason I'd been running). I should have. When did I learn I have to be grownup, and not go out and stand in the rain and laugh? It's beautiful....
