Autumn In My Mind

Driving along a familiar road finally feels different. It's not the drive itself, or the road or car or perception of the distances traveled or sights seen. Well, not entirely of the sights seen because nothing has drastically changed. Autumn has finally reached its delicate brush to the path of my life. Colors are exploding and falling to the tiring earth, enriching the experience though it's expected. My eyes were shocked and it took moments to realize why they were fluttering about in excited fervor. Orange, red, and yellow leaves donned the limbs where green was but a week prior.

How quickly the change came. How startling was the difference, unlike my own tree standing valiantly defiant before my house. His leaves hold to the green of summer, wave conditionally in the crisp morning air, and laugh in the afternoon heat of an extraordinary October. He is telling us how strange the weather is, while the rest of life prepares for the blanketing chill that will certainly fall faster than this autumn.

These thoughts made me wonder, created a new dialectical thought process which stemmed far beyond the natural cycles of nature and the possibilities of art. I don't exactly know why my mind traversed these heights or why the answers still eluded the simple questions: If the change of trees, those powerful entities that survive so many adversities, can happen so suddenly and completely, will my mind take such a short redesign as well? Perhaps it already has and I never noticed, like I failed to notice nature transitioning in its natural timeline. In a sense, I know the answer is yes. Experience has already showed me as much, and the evidence sits clearly on my blog!

Since school started, my ability to create fantastic worlds defying the laws of Earth has drawn to a standstill. I wouldn't necessarily say the inspiration has vanished, because I'm still able to draw the concrete images which create the worlds I seek to explain; but my words are lost to different utilities. The structure of my thoughts has shifted so drastically that I almost feel wasteful to use my creative words in imagination instead of finding the proper words to explain the academic thoughts needed in school. Such a sudden shift has created conflict in me, mirrored in the leaves of trees yet to fall, yet to change; like the sentinel outside my house.

But which am I now? Am I the colored change of seasons dancing in a procession of beauty, or am I the one clinging to what has to be left behind in hopes of rebirth? Is my ability to stick solely to school work hampering my destiny as a writer? Or am I strengthening my resolve by honing my skills in this academic way? Here my answers are lost, betrayed by my quiet mind struggling to survive classes and work and conceive new ideas. My change truly came too quickly for me to understand; descended upon my mind faster than the wind could sweep away the decaying leaves.

I want to believe my mind has shifted to a better season of understanding, strength, and concision that will adapt to my writing before long. This is my autumn, my lasting experience of overwhelming existence before a relief and change toward my new life. My next fear, deciding this path, is what will happen to the world in which I'm currently living? Is everything going to shift? Change? Dissolve into the a frayed painting of beautiful autumnal hues? Only time will tell now, and hope that my choices guide this change...