How much I love the month of October; the beauty of red, orange and yellow coloring the world, the crispy taste of cold mornings, the leaf-dancing breezes, the chilling joy of Samhain (Halloween to y'all non pagans) and the mystery of night ever alive in this Hunter's Moon. Opportunties to taste pumpkin pie, hot chocolate, pork and squash; to gut a pumpkin and see the face light up in night; and to walk among the leaves and music of the trees preparing to sleep.
Yet..I hate October. Of all months, October is tough to me. A discovery of a murdered woman among the fallen leaves; most forgotten by everyone except for her family and I, although the name is starting to fade from memory. A relative's death by suicide; common in my family, it seems, just like leaves falling one by one. A car hitting me, leaving me with my own struggle, one foot in the summerlands and one foot in the world here, and not knowing if I would survive, but to survive paralyzed or whole. Masks discharged, revealing true or false friendships in the true environment of the hospital. Power struggles during the vulnerable moment of the hour.
I'm reminded gently by the Goddess, that October is of balance. Dark and Light. Whispers in the silent darkness, foretelling new beginnings. Mystery of Life and Death. Samhain is a time of introspection, of emptying the false from the mind, heart, and soul. Dawn and Twilight. Two sides of the coin. Cannot have one without the other. The only choice I have is how I live walking the path of the labyrinth, among the fallen fire-colored leaves.
