Summer is the season of certainty. The Apollonian sun bleaches away gradations, leaving us with just the clean contrast of sand and surf. But real life is more like Fall.
This is the dappled, Dionysian time. Whether we're in school or long out of it, in autumn we instinctively gear up for new beginnings even as the leaves turn and fall. Like ourselves, autumn is a dappled thing, a "landscape plotted and pieced." Back at home, we challenge ourselves to adorn, but also Cure. The days get shorter, but we yearn to do more in them. A crispness in the air quickens our blood, but the plants stop bursting forth. And we remember that a terrible fissure can appear in the most perfect fall day.
What do we do with a season like this, of regrouping and new beginning, loss and harvest?
I don't know, but William Burroughs may have a hint when he says, "When you cut into the present the future leaks out." Or, as Laurie Anderson puts it,
And you don't always realize it, but you're always falling.
With each step you fall forward slightly.
And then catch yourself from falling.
Over and over, you're falling.
And then catching yourself from falling.
And this is how you can be walking and falling at the same time.
Photo credit: Memotions