Adventure is worthwile in itself.

Time, space, place… these are all huge sources of inspiration. I touched on autumn a couple posts ago with a little mental food from Thoureau but there is still more to say here.

Autumn is…

a time of transitions.

a time to feast before winter fasts.

the beginning of the end of the year’s cycle.

full of color and fragrance.

a time to get closer to those you love.

about letting go.

Summer is a traditionally for adventures, but be sure to get out and about in this beautiful season.  Last year, I explored the Northern Rim of the Grand  Canyon. It was quiet, crisp, golden from the changing aspen leaves, and glorious in the distinct autumn light.

Aspen on Fire

Take Aways-

The Grand Canyon is grand on a micro scale as well. The forest glitters as you walk along the rim from the crystallized geology. Moss and tiny textures are a feast for your eyes.

It calls to you. The Canyon has a presence, like the sirens in greek mythology. It pulls and entrances, drawing you into its folds. Its almost frightening in some ways, like a Lovecraft story. You feel its secrets, but they are beyond your grasp.

It is ancient. You can feel it.

The north side is not a desert. There are beautiful trees, herd of deer grazing, and really adorable squirrels with pointy ears.

Life and death exist side by side in unique ways. The rim trails are littered with the carcasses of trees, impaled by lightening strikes. The electricity is palpable.

Rogier Houwen

Get out there. Adventure on! While you do, consider your creative triggers. Give yourself the space and the time to ruminate on all you see. …  now where should I go this year?

Washed ashore// philosophical Gifts from the Sea

Working on my upcoming product launch, I was brunching with a friend and discussing the tale of my product.  Storytelling is a huge part of my new objects, since the inspiration comes from distinct geographic triggers and the tales that spin from them (more on this later).  In the conversation, she suggested I read A Gift From the Sea.

Written in 1955, the book contains musings and ruminations of what it means to be an independent human being and the challenges in balancing such a life. What is really interesting is she writes this from a little shell of a beach house, surrounded by her favorite shells she has collected. She picks up each one and learning from their individual properties, provides a lesson for each. Beautiful…

Many of her words about social pressures, connections, and balance  ring VERY true, having been spoken in other iterations during our current time.

Plant your solitude with your own dream blossoms.

Nurture your inner world as much as your outer. For creatives, these clear moments of solitude are so necessary to refill our reserves and allow us to create.

Her reflections happened while she had the vast sea in front of her. Sometimes certain places have this effect on us- give us a clean slate to bounce our inner and creative thoughts off of and get our wheels turning.  I have a couple places like this- the sea is one, the redwoods another. What places do this for you?

So beautiful is the still hour of the seas withdrawl…
as beautiful as the seas return…
when the encroaching waves pound up the beach
pressing to reach those dark rumpled chains of seaweed
that marked the last high tide.
Perhaps this is the most important thing to take from
beach living, simply the memory that
each cycle of the tide is valid,
each cycle of the wave is valid,
each cycle of the relationship is valid.
And my shells? I can sweep them all into my pocket.
They are only there to remind me that the sea
recedes and returns eternally.

Poetic, philosophical, and in so many ways like the sea- eternal.

Hear the waves yet? Maybe its time to reconnect.

Autumn is coming.. and a bit of Longfellow

Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain,
With banners, by great gales incessant fanned,
Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand,
And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain!
Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne,
Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal hand
Outstretched with benedictions o’er the land,
Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain!
Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended
So long beneath the heaven’s o’er-hanging eaves;
Thy steps are by the farmer’s prayers attended;
Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves;
And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid,
Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves!

 

 

It’s coming!  Can you feel it? This weekend I felt the first breath of autumn around the corner, marked by a certain crisp thin quality to the air. Autumn is my favorite time of the year. Golden leaves, blustery kisses from the wind, and the spicy smell of summer passing.

When I was small, my favorite thing was to let the autumn winds so intense in So. Cal blow me away…

Do you have any favorite autumn memories? What triggers them?

 

More on autumn in a later post!