Less Light, More Dark ...

The air is cooler, and the darkness is more upon us now, as the winter season makes its presence known.  This is the time of year that my old melancholia tries to nudge its way back into my life, with a free-form anxiety coming along for the ride.  I have realized that the amount of solitary time I spend is directly related to the tenacity of my dark spirits...
But this weekend I had a chance to spend time at the beach interacting with visitors coming to Salmon Creek for their "art walk," and the change in momentum is clear.  To the prevailing enthusiasm about my art (my eclectic, eccentric necklaces), I feel myself becoming animated, attending to my words, actually liking what I hear.  I feel authentic and solid in those moments.  In keeping with the ever changing nature of things, these weekend days went from grey and drizzling to bright and sunny (today), and you can feel that "nip" in the air, which is invigorating.  I go to bed listening to the roar of the ocean, and wake up to the beginnings of bird conversations, and in moving about my little house I pay close attention to the minutiae of life ... the warmth of the teacup in my hand, the ivory keys of my piano under my fingers, the smell of some exotic new soap in my bathroom, my cat posing on the windowsill in the sun ... all this and more, when I'm not ruminating about our terminal human journey.  Impermanence is with me through all my waking moments it seems, and there are many times I have a hard time opening my heart to it.
Have been reviewing my photographs recently in preparation for doing a photo show, and that has been a gratifying process : to view one's own work with objectivity and respect.  I see a thread in the work : the spiritual character of our human existence.  As I look at the Burmese children with their wide open smiles, the Bhutanese monk proudly gazing at my camera, the Balinese couple with their hands raised in prayer ... I realize the need we all have for the divine realm, that place where we are all together as members of the human family, and there is no separation, no judgment.  Which leads me to wonder whether I should move out of my hermit self, reach out more to the world, offer more of myself to life, much like I have this weekend with the art enthusiasts... Connection is a lifeline.  It vibrates.  Solitariness can be retreat -- ever so still;  one's line of sight becomes so much narrower the more time one spends alone.
Yes, now that there is in fact more darkness (the season for hibernation!), and, yes, the 20th anniversary of my mother's death, I will take some steps outward.  And I will see perhaps that I am not as alone as I believed I was.