Fall Is The Time To Write Again

10/3/14 – Ill last night, and slept over 13 hours. Better now. It’s gray and rainy outside, that part of Fall that makes me so reflective…where do these falling leaves go? The cycles keep repeating, but seemingly faster and faster. The past is misty to me, my brain can’t keep all my lifetimes remembered clearly now…how many faces have I worn while in this body? And what, if anything, have I learned? Have I done enough good to be worthwhile here? And what do I do now? So many questions, and who to ask them of…I just don’t know. The path is covered with leaves, I can’t see where I’m going.

I know that I’ve had some kind of an evolution in my life, but in so many ways I feel just like that kid I was down by the river at the Arboretum, out with my parents on a Saturday for a walk and a picnic, looking into the river and wondering where it came from and where it was traveling. Now, my Mom is down that river, around the bend, far from my sight. And my Dad is headed that way too, and so I suppose am I. All the scenes since that time, all the various parts I’ve played in life’s little movies, it’s all been so fascinating and beautiful, so heartbreaking, so strange. And I’m closer to where they roll the credits than before, but I don’t know if I’m any wiser about the plot than I was. And I’m still not sure about the writer and the director…if I get a chance, I’d like to talk to them a bit. I’ve got some questions about the story.