I love the fall. It is, unquestionably, my favorite season. I’m not sure what it is about this time of year that makes me love it as much as I do. My brain seems to process the seasons backwards. For me, autumn represents renewal. Autumn is the beginning. Spring and summer reflect the ebb and the slow burn of the year.
This time of year, though, this is the time when the world recognizes it’s time to replenish itself. It’s that spark of excitement, waiting for the birthday boy to walk into the room and get surprised by a room full of loved ones. It’s the “WE MADE IT!” time of year, when everyone is given permission to leave a sink full of dirty dishes and collapse on the couch and revel in conversation and comfort and full bellies.
Maybe it’s because I’m a morning person. Maybe it’s because I love storms. Maybe it’s because I’m a sweater person. Maybe it’s because I’d rather bundle up than strip down. Maybe it’s because I love fire. Maybe it’s because I’m a Scorpio. Maybe it’s because mashed potatoes are one of my favorite foods. Maybe there doesn’t need to be a reason.
This is my time. This is the grand finale, when the biggest challenges are faced, and the most lofty goals are set. It’s when I feel in my heart that I can conquer whatever I set my mind to do, and it’s when I love myself the most. It’s when I feel the most like the authentic me.
When I write or perform, I work best under pressure. I’m not a planner. I’d love to say otherwise, but it’s not the case. I wait until the last minute, and then I explode. Occasionally, it doesn’t work that way, but most of the time it’s true. I won’t say that it doesn’t cause its fair amount of anxiety, or that I never worry that everything will turn out just fine, but it does. It always does.
This is that time. This is my creativity as illustrated by a season. It’s who I am.