Almost every night, regardless of how much emotional pain I am bearing, I take a walk.
To the same place. At almost the same time.
The sun starts to sink, and I start at the river. I watch the water. I check in on the herons. And always, lately, as I start a phrase wades through my mind. "whenever I am here, things move."
My emotions, as I have written about, devastate me. This summer I have stood before them, and looked them right in the eye. I sit next to them. I let them exist. It is excruciating. And I walk anyway.
I find places to sit and I cry in the twilight. I find patches of pine trees. I discover secret passages. I find the crests of hills, in search of the evening breeze. Hope for Autumn to finally come. I discover pure magic. Even if I feel at rock bottom, the earth seems to be able to take that on and I almost want to find a corner to curl up in and not go home; it seems easier to process and ground in the open air, not surrounded by four walls.
I am never disappointed as the sun goes down. A promise of a new day tomorrow. The reassurance that, for now at least, I can depend on one thing. The glowing sky. Tender plants. The triad of trees. The silver leaves that shimmer at dusk. Every time, whether I am crying or not, these things never abandon me.
And yes, being abandoned is the root of all my suffering. I feel, always, so painfully alone.
Things move at Twilight. Of this I can rely. They shift and transform. I can depend on the truth that "this too shall pass."
Energy never stays still.
Sometimes there is more wisdom in what isn't said than in a million words I could hear.
And so, dark or light, painful or not, this too shall pass. The trees will shift in the wind. And so will I.