In my last post, I described my sense of chaos at the change of seasons, the feeling of not knowing how I'm going to adjust to this new change in life, in my established schedule, in what I cook and eat, even in the clothes I'm going to wear every day. It seems strange that this should happen, to tell the truth, because the regularity with which seasons change in life means that I should know already how things will go; and of course, in America I do know this, because the change of seasons means only a relatively small number of changes. But here, those changes are monumental, and affect most parts of my life in some way in a manner that I'm just not used to.
I describe this feeling as one of chaos, because I know sure how else to describe it. Maybe it's apprehension; maybe it's a bit of fear of the unknown (even though there are expectations even in the unknown) or simply a fear of change. I think apprehension comes closer than fear, but chaos just feels right. I can tell you where I feel it. I feel it in my chest, and sometimes in my throat. Right there in the center of my chest is a big ball of chaos that makes me stop at times. It tells me that things are about to change, but I can't yet do anything different until they do change, and then it tells me that what I'm used to is no longer acceptable at the given moment that it decides to manifest. I can feel its pressure as I try to breathe it out, and its unwillingness to go away until life finally gives in and shifts.
It's not debilitating and it's not frightening and it doesn't stop me from living life. But it's there, and it rolls around, and it pokes at me. It tells me that I'm going to have to give up life in the way I'm used to it by now but it won't tell me just exactly how. It's messing with me, and I know it, so I look forward to the season getting on with its change and letting me go along with it.