Falling into Place?

I arrived home from Southeast Asia two weeks ago and, after experiencing normal jet lag, have acclimated quite well. I have busied myself editing and organizing the trip photos and have placed them online for anyone to see them.  Let me know, and I'll send you the links.

Several people have asked if I plan to continue posting additional photos and reflections of my last adventure. I am not sure if I can move back into the past. As I expected, I am starting to experience amnesia. Memories become murky. All I know "clearly" is where I am now. I have visions of time in faraway places but, those moments and the intensity of their meaning feel like they are attached to grains of scattered dust which have blown outward into space never to be experienced close-up again.


The Fall season had advanced while I was gone. Colorful leaves now abounded on the trees and on the ground. This drew me to pad along the trails in parks, camera in hand, to snap pictures. I wanted to feel some continuity with whom I was on the trip, a person who kept a keen eye for lovely or unusual scenes. Yesterday at Drake Park, I saw children throwing piles of leaves into the air. The yellow, brown, and red flecks fluttered skyward for a moment and then, like a flock of lazy birds looking to land, glided slowly downward ending on the ground in a heap. What formed was a kaleidoscopic quilt covering the grass. The scene had meaning to me which was deep and sentimental and my urge was to lie down on this brilliant blanket and look up at the clouds in the sky.  Was I feeling the emotions of an older man moved by the nostalgia of his childhood or was it simply a youthful desire to seize the joy which comes along when a special experience awaits?  Regardless of the answer, I dropped down on my back into a crispy pile of attractive jetsom and then rolled about like a crazy dog massaging his fur. Leaves scrunched beneath me, pieces attached to my clothes, and some worked their way through my shirt, pants and shoes onto my skin. What a visceral experience! Then, suddenly torn from the moment of ecstasy and, as if directed from some paternal force from above, my field of sight shifted. Across the street I spied a stopped police car. I rued a thought. Why does it feel immoral or illegal for the old to act young? Anyway, now daunted, I brushed myself off and skulked back to my car.

My days are spent seeking joyous moments through this changing season. Snow is in the air. I took my skis to be waxed. Soon I will be going downhill. Let's not think that I may be going that way already.