Something about fall in
upstate New York. One gets all
reflective, as though there's no particular substance beneath a shiny surface... it's not about me for a few minutes or days, its about everyone else, and I see myself in other people and
vice versa. Then you have to ask yourself really hard questions: Who am I? Where've I been? What am I doing?
Where's my wife and family? What if I die here? The answers are in other people before they're in you. Maybe I get so reflective because my birthday is this season. I turned 20 on the 24th, (or the 23rd), my father turned 55 on the 25th, and my brother turned 27 on the 28th. My poor mother had to put up with us 3 scorpios all our lives, and her birthday isn't until March.
At church last saturday the priest said that they were going to start incorporating more silence into the service -- that if it was quiet for a bit after the gospel reading we shouldn't fidget and wonder if anyone lost their place because there was supposed to be a reflective pause after the gospel reading so that its meaning could sort of sink in to the congregation. The priest said this pause was sort of lost in our speeded-up world, but that we needed it to put the meaning of the words in perspective. I thought that that was really the whole purpose of fall, at least where I am. Its the meaningful pause right before death to let the full meaning of the passing year sink in. And I feel like I'm surrounded by silence, even if I am blasting the dropkick murphys or a mixed CD made by an awesome young man, no matter how loud the environment gets, its still quiet inside me while I listen to everything die, and find out what the year was about.