Every now and then I get sentimental. It doesn't happen often, but it does come up on occasion. I'm ordinarily someone who looks to what's about to happen rather than what already happened, so when I get sentimental, it's a rather odd feeling.
Yesterday I thought about my old dog Jake. I looked at a bunch of old pictures, especially the photos of his reflection in cars. I have hundreds of these pictures. Sometimes, even now, more than four years since he died, I miss him. I really loved that dog.
|It looks like he's wearing sunglasses, though he definitely was not. That's Maury Elementary School behind him, and me reflected in the door handle.|
What brought up the sentimental feelings? A part of it is that in DC, summer is waning. The energy is beginning to pull itself inwards and downwards. It's subtle at this point, but noticeable. We are no longer in the opening, blossoming, expansive part of summer. Brother Sun has passed his peak. The days are definitely shorter and the shadows in the front of the chateau are creeping northwards.
I'm seeing pods, seeds and berries forming in the green world. The leaf canopy is looking a little bit haggard, just a little, but it is starting to sag. The cicadas and crickets are singing their sad songs. At night their serenades are really loud, as is appropriate in August. And the mosquitoes are getting aggressive in ways they aren't earlier in the season. I'm seeing lots of wasps, too, a sure sign that fall is just around the corner.
I'm out there every day, looking for signs of the shifting season because I depend on the shifting seasons. The turning wheel of the solar year helps me feel grounded and oriented. It helps me make sense of my moods, sleep patterns, appetite, dreams and patterns of thought. I may not enjoy the hottest summer days or the coldest winter days, but I believe these conditions are important, that they set me straight in space/time.
Melancholy and sentimentality are - in the Reyaverse - a part of autumn. It's appropriate to get all misty about Jake right now, even though it isn't characteristic. It means I'm prepared to dance in shamanic alignment with the season ahead.
Ironic as it is, thinking ahead in August involves thinking back to what once was. Yes it is paradoxical. August is paradoxical, it surely is. Or maybe it's me that's paradoxical.
Damn. Sometimes I really miss my dog.