Sometimes I wish I were somewhere else. Some days nothing is good enough, the world feel heavy and too huge and too close. These are important feelings, and one’s comfort can be hard to find.
People seem to look for it in a lot of places where it can’t live: the bottle, sex, drugs, travel, television whatever. The illusion of comfort seems to take people in with swiftness. How do you measure comfort anyway? How can a person know when they’re lying to themselves? This is a question I try to ask. I don’t really think there’s a good answer; I don’t think it’s good practice to ask questions looking for direct answers anyway.
Autumn is a grey season; I’ve always seen it as a season of death. This is the season where I tend to look for cheap comfort. I am wary of autumn.
I see winter as the after-life. Where I’m from winter is a season where darkness and light contrast the most, the rang of light seems to me to be at its peak. The day light hours are few but the winter sun seems to find a way to remind me of where I’m from, where I’m going… In some ways it’s the brightest season. Most days are full of sun reflecting on snow and ice, carrying on and on.
I always think of winter as an honest season, one that helps me hold on to what I have. It seems less illusory than any other season. I feel bad for the people in the world who don’t get to drink it in. They are missing out. I am always holding out for winter.
I was out in Ontario, playing songs for whoever will listen. The trees have all turned, the skies are mostly grey. It is beautiful and pretty (there’s a difference you know?). I’m surrounded by Pre-Cambrian shield, masses of granite stretching across the part of the country that I have seem to know best. I wish I were fishing. I usually bring a rod with me on the road. This leg of the tour is just to busy for it. I should have brought one anyway. It would have reminded me of so many moments where autumn was kind and comforting. Besides I feel like the walleye must be biting, and I feel sure that I could find them today.
I am so happy to be out driving around in the fall. It’s lonesome though, in a good way. I am grateful for that feeling today.