September 11, 2020. We’ve arrived at “the in-between.” In the far-north, summer exits abruptly while autumn enters hesitantly and winter awaits at the door. The skies record this jerky transition. Before the changing of leaf-color comes the changing of sky-color. Moody. Uncertain. Evolving. Kind of like me. If we’re honest, like most of us. Like our entire country!
In this unsettled space between summer and autumn, my emotions change as often as the sky. Gratitude, for this beauty! Then, a creeping sadness for the coming darkness. Resolve, to use that darkness for useful contemplation! Then, a kernel of dread — because if it’s to be useful, it will be hard. Gratitude again, for the eyes to see and the heart to receive. But a tinge of despondency, knowing a cold, gray drizzle could mar the view.
September skies echo our national tumult. This tumult seems intractable, now. But then I remember the significance of this date — 9/11, the day “everything changed.” Yep, pretty much. And we recovered. “Everything changed” this year too. And we will recover, again.
Yes, the “in-between” is unsettling, even uncomfortable. But it’s possible to find peace within the discomfort. To keep our eyes (and heart) open. Because anything could happen next. If you don’t believe that, just watch the September skies for a few hours.
For Many Moons 