I took the bus to the clinic today- it's another unseasonably warm day. Frost kisses the fallen leaves in the mornings, and the car windows have to be defrosted, but by 10 am, it was in 70's, beautiful and strange. The light is all different in autumn. I suppose it is the position of the sun and earth at this time of year, but the light isn't as bright or harsh. Kind of soft and glowy.
The leaves have all fallen from the trees, and the sun goes down shortly after 4 pm. I walked home from the bus stop this afternoon around 2 pm. It's maybe a mile down the road or so. There are so many crunchy leaves all over the yards and sidewalk. SOme people have rediculously gathered them into plastic bags, but there are still lots lying around to stomp in and kick around as you walk. I love autumn leaves. Golden and brown cottonwood leaves dominate the landscape here, though many of the siberian elms are still green.
After walking home in the warm, kicking and crunching leaves, I felt very sleepy when I got home. Not quite sure why, but I had the afternoon to myself this week, and decided to take a friends advice to heart. I didn't have a lot of energy, nor did I plan anything, but I turned on some meditative drum recordings, lit a charcol and offered resins and herbs to burn. Amber, copal, sage and tobacco. Filled the room with smoke and prayers, laid down on the bed, closed my eyes, and fell into myself. I probably fell asleep at one point, but feel refreshed and more in touch with my feelings. Still sad, still troubled and frustrated, but here, and now, and alive.
I still dont have answers, or know what to do. I really want to leave, and I really want to stay and finish school.
I've been thinking a lot about Tucson in the last few weeks. I'm not sure why exactly, but I'm missing it. When I think about why, I wonder. There wasnt much keeping me there, no family, no close friends, no great job. But I miss the familiar landscape, my sacred spots in nature that offered so much solace and grace in the 5 years I lived and grew there. I miss the way the sun sets there, I miss summer rainstorms, I miss a lot about it. But strangely enough, I'm not sure I want to go BACK either. I'm missing a place that was home, in the deepest sense, at home with the land, and enviroment and natural rhythms. I worked hard to ground myself in that landscape, and I haven't done that here. I dont feel at all attatched to the land here. I dont plan on staying in Colorado either, so I dont make the effort either. But I long for that HOME feeling, the feeling of connectedness, of rootedness, of family with the creatures and plants around me. Grandfather saguaros and brother coyote at dawn, carefully picking my way around prickly pear in the desert, and eating desert fruits, fresh from the plants when they were in season.
But I dont want to go back to a city. I want LAND. I dont want another 'job', I want lifes work as an herbalist, as a medicine woman, a healer, a flower shaman. I want to gather food and medicine, and I want a community to share it with.