I never violate an inner rhythm. I loathe to force anything. I don’t know if the inner rhythm is Eastern or Western. I know it is essential for me. I listen to it and I stay with it. I have always been this way. I have regards for the inner voice.
Night and day are again of equal length and in perfect equilibrium — dark and light, masculine and feminine, inner and outer, in balance. But we are again on the cusp of transition and from now the light begins to wane. In anticipation of this — I feel great flux, resistance, sadness, and great potential. I feel excitement, moments of intense joy, and some degree of pressure. It is time to gather in energy, to clarify intentions, and at the same time to give over to the necessity for darkness — space for the unknown, the unformed, the scary, the shadow.
I am back in Nova Scotia. Hurricane season is passing through, everything is swept up and spinning, vital. The hurricane called Dorian is awe-inspiring to watch, the trees bend in the window and then stop, and then sway and creek again. The mesmerizing movement of spiral. Zolinda, the baby cat, runs up and down the curtains. We are mercifully safe in the end. But this is Mother Nature manifesting her power and reminding us to respect.
This whole last month of summer, I swim at Crystal Crescent. I plunge and dive into the turquoise glamour. This sea is my home. And, I have many lake swims too. I feel part of the landscape, immersed, when I swim. This season I feel the masculine and feminine in a crazy dance, it is zesty and charged. The sun is brilliant and starting to pull away, as the moon grows closer, low and orange and pregnant. Each day I play with Zolinda. She reminds me of the urgency of basic needs, to keep focus light and to play, as things are changing so fast.