Free Write Monday

A favorite exercise of mine has always been free writing. A technique intended to warm up the writer, with the intention of revealing sudden raw, in-the-moment thoughts. It is almost a sort of therapy. The only rule is that there is continuous writing throughout without going back to make changes, usually resulting in a multitude of forward-moving directions with no regard for structure. I will admit, that vanity insists I run the spelling/grammar check before posting, but I am abiding by the rules of continuous motion and I am happy for doing so. The truth is I am completely out of practice. I have not been writing as much as I had in the past. I feel tapped out and uninspired. I will be happy to sit in my chair and prattle off anything at all, virtually venting in the process. This is not to say that I have anything in particular to vent. My life may be in a temporary limbo, but it is actually quite good. I am looking forward to the actual transition into fall. I wanted to write a piece on autumn, but eighty-degree, sunny days have done nothing to inspire my actual feelings of the fall season. The leaves may be falling and the air may be crisp in other parts of America, but here in Southern California, for the time being, the heat compliments the palm trees. However, a couple of Thursdays ago, I did get a glimpse of what is in store. It had rained parts of the day and rained a lot the night before; the skies were gray and moist with a weakened sun, and a tiny bit of crisp wind here and there. It was a hopeful night realizing that the city would be transitioning into a completely different vibe, as seasons do. I excitedly went out, stocked up on candles and incense and dragged all the comforters out of the closet. However, since that one evening, it has been hot and bright sunny every day. The way it is looking, it is going to continue being warm and sunny for quite some time. Mind you, I am not complaining. I consider myself incredibly lucky to be living in Southern California; I was simply fixed on the coming of a season toned with dreary melancholy, with undertones of physical and emotional inwardness. It sounds a little dark, but the very fabric of fall is life in a sort of suspended animation, our own development in a slow or dormant state. Nothing is thriving, but nothing is extinct either. It is in this state that a mellow fecundity blossoms before a rebirth of some kind -- significant or minor. I suppose I was all ready to be part of a season whose gray melancholy would coincide with my own mental and emotional quiescence. I am not implying that I am silently suffering in a depressive state, but I am approaching the turn of several new chapters in my life and I am definitely feeling the vibe of fall. I like the idea of sorting things out to the sound of rain, nestled in the shy California suburbs, always reluctant of the rain. There is something odd about someone who is not around socially during the summer, but there is nothing out of the ordinary about someone who seems to be contemplative and introverted during the fall and winter seasons. It has been an amazing summer, but this year I am not interested in the perpetual summer. I am ready to embrace any growths of maturity and am ready to find accomplishment and fulfillment within myself. I am eager to bundle up and change with the winds all for the better.