Falling Into Writing

Fall is known as the season of decay. Trees begin to die, with leaves changing colors to gold and red, plants wilt and harvest is taken up. But death in death, there must be life; and in fall it is when my writing comes to life. Aurora, my muse, seems to think that fall is the perfect time to wake up and get some exercise. In summer she complains that it’s too hot and she becomes lazy and lethargic; in spring she gets annoyed with the bright lights and colors and in winter she’s too busy warming herself up by the fire to help me write even a syllable. In autumn though, she finds her calling.

As soon as two cold days in a row happen, as soon as the trees become golden, Aurora wakes up. I can hear her too, jumping up and down with joy, throwing on a light jacket and begging for me to venture outside where she can feel the crisp breeze on her face. And of course, she insists that I bring my writing notebook with me. In fact, I can’t go anywhere in fall without my notebook. Because as soon as I set foot outside of whatever building I’m in, Aurora starts singing lines of poems and songs and stories to me faster then I could even begin to write.

Aurora even has her own spot. Well, I suppose it’s my spot; my writing spot as I like to call it. But it was Aurora’s pick really. It’s a little secluded area of campus that no one ever goes to. It’s behind the lake, next to the cemetery where the dead founding monks of my university lie. There, surrounded by trees and forgotten, is a little nook containing a statue of the Virgin Mary, some strategically placed plants and three benches. Aurora just can’t get enough of this place. I personally am not an outdoors kind of gal, but Aurora would prefer to spend all her time here, wandering in the large, but isolated area, singing, dancing and thriving as I sit with my writing notebook, taking down the words she dictates.

Just earlier this week, I wrote 3 poems and 2 songs in 2 days which is a far cry more then my usual 1 item a week any other time of year. It’s almost taxing actually, the amount of emotion Aurora takes out of me to write this often. My hand begins to hurt, my pain fill up and my heart overload with the feelings Aurora pours into each and every piece of writing. But I shouldn’t complain because I know it’s worth it, to see her so happy; so excited. Not to mention, watching my writing notebook fill up. Yeah, it may be nippy and the days may be getting shorter, but the work I create, the joyful liveliness of Aurora, more then makes up for the death and decay of the season.