A few weeks ago, for one of the first times in my life I really felt as if my life were moving forward. I felt the motion of being on a forward path. Feeling stuck or lost is familiar to me. Here I was actually moving and it was wonderful. Exciting. But there was another part of me that shouted, 'whoa, slow down a sec', like when you're on a swing and find yourself too high and you think 'mistake!! slow down! My stomach's flipping over!' I got frightened by the newness and needed to take it down a notch, dig my heels in the gravel.
I saw this tree and felt a kinship with the leaves still clinging on. 'That's right', I thought, 'don't let go...change is bad'.

I usually fear change, even when it's for the good. Guilty.
After my panic I giggled at my silliness and realized I need to just look at these fears, let them be, and continue going forward. It takes time.
Sometimes I just need a quick reassuring pat in the right direction.

This video is sweet, and helps.

Look at that...change is good!

I LOVE Ray William Johnson. And I LOVE/adore/live for musicals, so it comes to no surprise that this rocks...

into the woods

I went on an autumn hike through the woods and pretended I wasn't a big loud clumsy human, yet a limber soft trodden doe. It was fun.

There was lots of greens, browns and smatterings of red, yellow and orange.

Along the path I saw something bright orange growing on a tree. Initially spotting it in the distance I couldn't imagine what it was and still can't quite believe it.

Giant vibrant orange mushrooms. Growing vertically along the bark like stacked pancakes. They look like they belong in the sea. When I look at the photos now they make me think of Spain.

I do not know why.

I sat under a huge beautiful tree and every once in a while heard what sounded like a door creaking closed. I looked up and wondered if the tree was creaking in the wind but upon hearing it again I got the feeling it was a bird. I told my friend who tried to be enthusiastic on my behalf but when I dragged her to the tree and she heard for herself she said...'oh, I didn't really believe you!' (I did a google search and found many 'creaking door' sounding birds but none that I can confidently commit to.)

An adventure to say the least.

I can be quite sentimental and I keep things forever and have a really hard time letting things go. So after recently breaking up with the gentleman I've been spending my time with over the past few months, I found myself wanting to choose one of the things he had left behind as a small token before returning the rest.

I had:

a pair of his tighty whitey undies

his 'planet earth' season one dvd

a toothbrush

an old dishcloth from his ma which we had taken on our canoe camping trip

So, the dvd didn't even play in my dvd player as it was a uk version and I wasn't interested in it anyhow. If I'm going to keep something to remember someone by, it won't be something as generic as a television series.

Moving on to the underwear...I remember how exciting it was finding his underwear hiding under my pillow or in other areas around my bed when we first started spending time together. I would do the laundry and he'd be so surprised when I presented him with freshly folded pairs of his underwear...'how did I manage to leave so many of these here?' he'd always wonder. But keeping his undies would present an awkward issue the next time I'm in a relationship. I wouldn't want my future man wondering what the eff I'm doing keeping some dudes fruit of the looms around for.

Which leaves us to the toothbrush. I actually kept my boyfriend befores' toothbrush in the holder for months after we ended things, not able to bring myself to toss it. I think keeping his toothbrush was a sign of denial, not wanting it to be over and having hope that things could reignite. With this man things are over though and what better way to send that message than returning a toothbrush.

So I found myself very much wanting to keep this old, ratty, frayed, faded dishtowel. It's a hand-me-down from his Mother when he moved into his own place. It was the perfect one to bring on our camping trip since it was already so disheveled. But I really liked the homey feel of it and how it used to be used in the house he grew up in by him and his family. His Mother is just about the sweetest thing around and I'm sad knowing I'll never see her again. I like that his mother gave it to him and I like knowing that his little hands were on it when he was a wee wipper snapper growing up. And we had such a great time on our camping trip together. And it perfectly fits my sentimental criteria.

But I gave it all back to him today. I think I had a moment of guilt even though he isn't even aware he left this at my place and would never ever miss it or think about it again. And if I told him this entire ridiculous blurb I just shared with you, he would hand over the towel and let me have it...would probably even want me to have it, this old tattered shmatah. And I saw a part of myself, and how I am different from him, and this is what I need to focus on now.