Fall Metaphors

It’s raining outside. The rain is cold and sharp. A type of rain that New England conjures up in early fall to remind its residents that, yes, summer is over. It’s not a subtle message. And just as quickly as I close up the windows and shun my sandals for toe-imprisoning shoes, New England will summon another sparkling, warm day. It’s just a tease, not a promissory note.

I sat down to write this today with the intent to reflect and meditate on the summer. After getting back from another weekend trip, I wanted to capture some of the stray moments. I wanted to commit them to memory so that I might savor them on a winter day.

But my mind is really spiraling right now.

The trip was great – full of activity and fun and friends. We indulged on great food, eye-popping sights and long, leisurely mornings lingering over coffee. So, I feel like my buzzy head is complaining about an embarrassment of riches and bucking against a predicament of my own making. But, I’ve been out of town for the last five of eight weekends and during the intermittent weeks, I was playing a shell game with a daily ‘To Do’ list.

I am feeling crazed.

There is a sensation that I am behind on things, but I can’t pinpoint what exactly those things are. I am unable get above the fray for a survey of the land because I am just taking things as they arrive and allowing actions to be dictated by my calendar or my inbox or the thing right in front of me. It didn’t help that I spent days glued to a television or radio, shouting my incredulity. Knowing for the sake of my own health and wellness, I should look away. But being constantly drawn back to it, like being surrounded by in quicksand and unable to take a step without getting sucked in.

I feel like I am moving along breathlessly- getting stuff done that was lined up weeks and months ago. Knocking off the urgent things that press me into action at a moments notice. Yet, the important stuff , the memorable moments, the mental keepsakes keep passing by like scenes outside the train window. I catch a snapshot of something interesting and try to tuck it into a ‘remember that’ slot of my head but the train just keeps plowing forward.

I can’t get my focus back.

My brain is so dodgy and flighty that when I try to write something more, I immediately get distracted with other stuff. Thoughts are like flies buzzing around. I either swat them away or, if I try to pin one down and catch it (or squash it), it just buzzes away too fast for my slow brain.

I dunno, I just can’t find the right metaphor.

Perhaps it is the rain.

Happy cooking, happy fall.