Same River

The weather here is becoming so wonderfully beautiful.  Biking to the hall in the morning is elating, watching the morning sun on the water and flying through the air.  Why is the sun on the water so beautiful?  Today I watched it and imagined that I was in the middle of the inevitable coming winter.  The sun will still shine on the river, but will it look the same?  Will it feel the same?  I tried to imagine.  Perhaps it will be a different feeling in my shoulders, that familiar narrowing of the chest in defense against the cold.  Will I still have the time in my bones to love it?  Will the cold air rob me of that pleasure for several months?

What can hurt us?  Is it really the air that is so harmful in the winter, or is it our reaction to it?  After biking to the hall, I was in a very bluebird mood and hummed my way to the shower room.  I discovered that a very thorough Japanese janitor had beat me at my game and removed the towel, soap and razor that I had stealthily  left in one of the empty lockers.  No matter, on such a beautiful day, who needs any of these things.  In fact, isn't it such a lovely lesson to remember that we don't need them?  Perhaps I won't bring a new towel, or soap for that matter.  Somehow the weather had fortified me against irritation.

As the sun gives us fewer of its precious hours, karmically allocating them to other parts of the world, I know that it will be harder to stay fortified.  Things creep in as the air gets cooler and the days become darker.  It's a change that is so slow as to be unnoticed.  I love the seasons.  I love living each one every year.  Each has something to offer, whether it is youthfulness, contemplation or the anticipation of something new.  What will winter here be like?  It won't have the snow of Madison to augment the sun's rays, but it seems possible that I will be able to enjoy a daily bike ride for its duration.  Slowly, over the next few months, that will become a different experience.  Some days it will be a struggle with cold and wind.  Some days I will be tired, my body wanting to rest with the sun.  Somedays I will be lonely, in need of warmth to open my ribs and release my defensive shoulders.  Somedays will be unfocused, undisciplined, somedays full of doubt.  These days, these hours and minutes are there in life.  But also there are the moments of sun on welcoming water.  Perhaps I can remember it in those times, and fortify myself.  Or perhaps I can enjoy the feeling of being unfortified.  Laying down my defenses against the feelings of the winter and opening my chest to them.  Some days are easy, and some are harder.  What can we learn from those easy days?  What can we learn from the difficult ones?

I'm looking forward to the fall.  Everyone says that it is really beautiful here, and even though the air has taken on its quality, there's very little hint of the leaves departing from their summer home.  It's cool and green and I can tell that it will be a long season.  In my stomach is the same strange beautiful feeling of uncertainty that I have known my whole life.  And this year it is mixed with the uncertainty of novelty. What new things will I come to love in the coming season?  Which will challenge me?  And will I still see the river the same way every morning?