Kathleen's Korner at TheStidhams.com

Autumn enters on golden rays of sun and
fills the house with the promise of pies and
long lazy evenings with a good book.

In some systems, there are five seasons:  Autumn, Winter, Spring, Summer and the Little Summer — or the Second Summer.  It is a time of promise and activity.
The promise of a time of rest, yet time still to finish the last of the gardening, the housecleaning, the shopping.

The promise that all things come to an end — easy times as well as terrifying will cycle through and die, as the grain browns in the fields, as the child becomes an adult and the adult becomes a corpse.

And we remember…

As we remember the sun and the heat, the dry and the growth of the First Summer we also look forward to the dark, the cold, the wet and the silence of the season to come.
We celebrate the times of abundance, we bring in the harvest and we prepare for the time when hearth and home are our refuge, our haven against that storm outside.

The seasons change, the stars roll along in the heavens, and we know…  this too shall pass.

How many times I have been surprised, when meeting someone new, to discover that we have known each other all along.

I had that feeling again this last weekend, when I met up with a fellow Babbleholic at the Whidbey Kite Festival on Saturday. We drove for two hours, and another half hour on the ferry to get there, and spent a lovely afternoon with new friends enjoying the ocean breeze and the wonderful kites.

Earlier this year, a similar feeling, driving up to a different Babbler’s home, to be greeted by a smile that belongs to my grandmothers, my cousins, my family.

Feeling instantly safe, completely at ease, perfectly accepted (strange ideas and all) — what a gift! And how sadly rare in this world. I am generally ill-at-ease with people, even (or especially) with those I already know.

So, I don’t expect to be instantly comfortable with everyone. With anyone, in fact I am always startled when I come home to a new place, a new person. That sense of recognition of me in the space between myself and others…

Yet, there is a part of me that seems to know there is something in common… between one and another, between the other and my self.

How sad it would be to find myself always lonely with people — at odds with them, seeing only differences.

Perhaps the beginning of Peace is that point where “other” becomes “self.” Perhaps the essence of Peace is being comfortable enough with another person to both celebrate their unique qualities and point out their errors and strangeness… with humor, with love, intending not to chastise but to learn and support.

And the goal of Peace? Not merely an absence of war — absence needs to be filled.

No, the goal of Peace must be, ultimately, to fill the space between us. To know who someone is, and then to let the undeniably dangerous concept of Love fill the gap.

I have today, now, this moment to treasure.  And then nothing.

This time, this place, these people (or this person) — or never, nowhere, no one.

What do I value?  See what surrounds me, where I am, what I do, who is with me.

What do I believe?  My work, my life, my heart express the essence of my in-most thoughts.

Do I do great things?  Or little things?  And who decides what is worthy?  Do I count as success only that which brings accolades — or that which pleases me?

I walked out in the garden this morning, pulled a few weeds, admired that last rose on the persistent shrub with its self-made nosegays, counted the spiderwebs hanging like solar diagrams on the buddleia (four) and threw a ball, a stick, a toy for the dogs.

I picked up the litter from the drive.  I wandered through the house, putting this thing away, setting this other aside for later.

I checked through the mail — a note from a friend, unsolicited recycling materials, a bit of news.

I deconstructed a little more of the water-damaged wall in my office and disturbed a small (maybe a few month’s old) ant nest when I removed a bit of insulation.  I set the window open to push the dust outside — or does it push it further inside?  No matter, the house was cooler.

I read, I played, I cleaned, I  rested, I dreamt.

Today, here, with my dogs at my side, I waited for my family to return home.