Re-emerging from a period of quiet can be difficult. Silence is of course quite easy to break but the longer you go without saying anything, the more you consider the things you do choose to say. You ponder their significance and worth a bit more. You realise the value in speaking (or writing) only when you have something to say, rather than rehashing old words, old experiences, old beliefs, old versions of yourself.
For the past little while, I've been overwhelmed by work but also quietly searching. I wasn't sure what for at first, but have realised that it was truth, about my life and my work. A clear understanding of what has been missing and what there has been too much of. In order to do this, I've had to go quiet, be open and, of course, face a few uncomfortable things. Things that are so embedded in my psyche I'm not even aware of them half the time. I've spent so much of the last decade fighting and pushing and reaching and striving and smashing down walls that sitting in a state of acceptance, as I vowed to do more of at the beginning of 2013, has been far more difficult for me than I thought.
I love autumn. It always feels like a relief after the intensity of the summer, particularly the year I arrived here. In fact, I met Tom on the first day of my first autumn here - and it was the day we were married, three years later. It has always been a time of new beginnings for me but also a reminder of how inevitable the arrival of every season is. The wheel keeps turning. And the next time it turns I hope to have evolved, to have moved on from this in-between space. So while I cultivate acceptance, less of an attachment to outcomes and a more solid devotion to the bigger picture in general, I am also equally determined to crack on with what is within my power to change, changes I know I need to make.