November Feeling


November has always been the month of leaves falling down, rain falling down, the earth evaporating its characteristic smell. November is the dark early in the morning and in the afternoon, the strange melancholy of street lamps that shine on people walking quickly. They are wrapped in their coats and look down not just because they want to avoid rain puddles.
It is the time of All Saints and the gatherings at cemetery where lie the beloved ones or the ones we have never met but are linked to us by whatever story.
Coming and going. The life cycle.

Today I watched my son riding a bicycle on a deserted playground. Behind him only dim light of lamps in the park in the contrast with the traffic lights on kids´cycling paths. He was alone, yet full of energy, pedalling with enthusiasm. At one point he left his bike at the side and started running. He stopped occasionally to push the pedestrian button in order to change the colour of traffic lights. Then he ran again and shouted something nobody else but him could understand.
I smiled. I observed him from nearby and imagined myself in my parents´garden when I was a child. I guess I used to run too, or observe some bugs or play with the black cat that was always there.

The smell of earth. The same now and then.

Later on at home I watched my daughter playing in the bathtub. She was pouring litres of water on her head and observed it flowing and dripping from her long hair. She was beautiful. I have always loved water and the feeling of being submerged.

Today, somehow, I felt the strength hidden in each of us. The vigorous pedalling through the life no matter what circumstances and at the same time the weakness of a tree loosing its leaves. I felt the repetitive, slow pouring of water on the naked body…Letting go. November feeling.

23 November 2013




2 thoughts on “November Feeling

  1. Reblogged this on Alexandra´s blog on Little things that matter and commented:

    Every year, every month, each day of our life is different, though it consists of the very same things we are used to doing. The festivities, the commemoration days, the holiday periods are there so we can change the mundane and at the same time they build a path of certain stability, something that waits for us always at the same time of the year. The mixture of repetition and change. Change that implies curiosity, expectation, thrill, pleasure but also fear of losing, of not getting there or going backwards. Stability that implies peace, effortlessness, pleasure, feeling of control but also fear of stagnation, boredom, spiritual death. I always used to love November for all this – the ambiguity and the opposites brought into harmony. The rainy and dark days and the warm light of candles and street lamps. The cool air and the hot tea after a long walk. The fog in the morning and the distant sun at the lunch time. The cold lakes we enjoyed in the summer that still welcome ducks and swans for a splash. The colourful leaves that dance their last dance with the wind and then land quietly on the ground in order to decay. The quiet of emptiness at the cemeteries and the hope for eternal. The remembering and letting go. The sadness but not despair. The fireplace and cracking of the wood that diminishes in front of your eyes. The warmth that stays after it is gone. The films with happy endings and the life stories without happy endings. The slowness of the time and the speed of days, months, years passed. Everything changes only the November feeling stays the same…


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