Donning denim to
cultivate steadiness, comfort, ease in the befriending of October, and the
lessons autumn offers to gently teach me.
***
“What should I
pack? What should I bring?”
An open
suitcase beckons possibilities.
I pause before
answering my mother’s question.
October in
Austin. The heat still flares. The sweat still pours. The appearance of
Halloween décor is the only cue to the supposed arrival of fall.
Skulls snicker
from the prickly crowns of cacti.
Pumpkin shaped twinkle lights gleam in tangerine in 80 degrees. Thick cobwebs wrap and reach across palm
leaves.
My sense of
season is utterly befuddled.
I yearn for the
coolness signaling autumn. I wistfully miss the grandeur, the gorgeousness, the
spellbinding spectacle of fall in Kentucky. The trees flash out into a fashion
show of ruby reds, burnt ambers, buttery yellows, and every street transforms
into a riveting catwalk where the trees arrest and astound with their glorious debut
of rich autumn hues.
The change in
the trees, the darkening of the days, the crispness of the mornings, the
coolness of nights initiated the anticipated transition to sweaters, jackets,
jeans and boots, and the final nod to the official declaration of the season:
flannel.
“What do y’all
wear in Austin in the fall?”
I take my
mother’s question seriously.
I think of the
parade of tourists and natives meandering through the boutique.
There are shorts paired with comfy sweaters. There are white dresses and cowgirl boots. There are long skirts and crop tops...and to my fashionista astonishment, there’s even flannel. (Y’all gotta have Texan blood for sure to pull out the flannel at the drop of 70 and below.)
An answer to my
mother’s question shimmers in visions of autumn adorned trees. Take a fashion
tip from the trees: dress brilliantly, unabashedly, ready to shed and let go,
open to flowing and working with the mercurial tidings of the season.
“Dress in
layers.”
Have a
conversation with the closet: Long dress to cultivate effortless elegance.
Ankle boots to channel a bit of Texas spirit. (Take bold steps, darling.) Denim
jacket to greet and close the day and shield against too strong blasts of AC.
Let feeling
decide the apparel. Let feeling style the ensemble. Let feeling piece together
the outfit that will exude and renew the feeling throughout the day.
Take a tip from
the trees on bending and leaning with feeling: rooted to core, rooted to the
unconditional nourishment of the earth, cultivate the steadiness to be present
in the ever-changing landscape of feeling.
Steadiness is a
buzz word of mine.
My life in
Austin has been a series of unexpected upheavals – personally, professionally,
and I strive to stay close, and closer to a calm center as I move as mindfully
and purposefully as possible through the choppy waters.
Steadiness
cultivated through morning meditation, prayer, a makeup routine narrated by NPR
segments.
Drinking water,
lots of water, and a few kombucha, too. Evening yoga. Walks. Journaling.
Acts of
self-love manifest in cleaning dishes right after the meal, keeping a tidy
room, having a grocery routine, practicing the pause to feel the answer before
responding.
Steadiness is
the topic of conversation with my sparkling Leo friend. Over sushi, she speaks
of my astrological chart. She explains the seas circulating and creating my
Gemini being.
The moon in
Cancer signifies deep waters, fierce currents, tides of unwavering feeling.
My moon in
Cancer, I kid (half-heartedly) saves me from the shallowness that can typically
define Gemini.
Blessing.
Curse. Strength. Weakness.
There are waves
that propel me forward. There are waves that threaten to drown.
Steadiness
teaches me to coast.
Steadiness. Security. Ease.
Am I an adult
now because I gravitate toward these words, find them tantalizing and
sexy?
Or is this a
part of my nature realized in full?
Routine grounds.
Ritual comforts
and clarifies.
Rhythm
steadies.
I exist in a
rich realm of complex feeling, and so the routine, the ritual, the rhythm returns
me back to the intelligence of my body, reunites me with the breath, reconnects
me back or closer to the core of calm existing within the momentum.
“Dress in
layers. Bring what feels like WOW. Come ready to play.”
I want my mama
to love my Austin.
I want my mama
to see the magic I use to see.
Experiences can
layer on top of a place and change the view, and I desire to encompass the
wonder of a visitor and the knowledge of a resident. Native and new all at
once.
Take a tip from trees: letting go of
perfectionism is freeing.
I let go of my
idealistic vision of showing off a well-established life in Austin, but I am
far from secured steadiness here. Nothing is secure, including how long I stay.
And I cultivate
the steadiness to be rooted to self in the uncertainty, to enjoy what is here
and where I am now, and to do the best I can do to show off a city that like
the best October, keeps revealing itself to me, that is unfolding in its own
seasons, mirroring the seasons within me.
“Then I’ll
bring my cowgirl boots.”
Yes, and she
does, and she’s looks Austin chic.
We walk in
cowgirl boots in neighborhoods adorned in spooktacular décor, relishing a shift
in weather.
When my mother
does visit, the final burst of summer fades into softer, cooler, lighter days.
We need this break in heat. We need this transition to breathe through the news
that my grandmother, a Libra, a baby of October, a woman who boasts that
October is simply the most marvelous birthday month because the trees change in
celebration, she’s in transition, too.
There’s the
click of boots against pavement, the pace of the walk to remind me to stay
steady in the natural cycles of living and passing, to stay steady in the ebb
and flow of emotion traveling with the cycles.
We pull on
denim jackets and long sweaters to revel in the cold breeze, to huddle in
closer to center as we stroll into a season instructing steadiness in change.
