Autumn leaves are born mid-air, between the whistling of the wind and onto the brown mass of earth. First, they clip off from their limbs, then rustle as they tumble down, and finally give a wee crunch of satisfaction as they join their fallen comrades. Autumn leaves drop in loose rhythm; they don’t attempt to match the chirps and buzzes of the forest.
I biked along the forest with these autumn leaves. It was late afternoon, early evening, and a beautiful temperature of cool. There was a grand desire for me to understand something by travelling through the forest, but how to flesh out a conclusion if the introduction hadn’t been agreed upon? I was being naive, I was being stubborn, I was being like every human who wanted to indulge in his or her own little world of uncertainty.
It is easy to live in the world within myself. My laws, my expectations. I may steer left towards the river bend if I choose. Or, I may simply continue on the path that will eventually lead to a right turn. Read the rest of this entry »