True colours

I had the most horrid headache this morning, as I do most days, but thankfully not all mornings. They usually happen late in the afternoon when I'm so worn out by the day's activities that I need to just lie down a bit, for twenty minutes or so, and get my thoughts together in a noise-free atmosphere. But today I woke up with one, which is one of the most excruciating feelings the world. Took a Panadol, but to no avail. Didn't help a bit, my head just kept right on throbbing to the beat of Stravinsky's "Sacrificial Dance" from his "Rite of Spring". So I told hubby to pack up the kids and let's all go to Maksimir Park and the zoo. So we did. And boy, did it do the trick.

Just looking at the trees turning shades of red, gold, brown and a myriad of other colours, with their foliage falling slowly, silently through the air onto the ground and into the lake like flakes of snow, and the ducks and swans witnesses to it all, put my soul, and my head, at rest. It was as if I had become one with Mother Nature for a moment, and she sent me a message that she felt at one with me too when she delivered a falling leaf right into my hand.

Here are a few photos of Maksimir Park that I took today:



Looking at the marvel of it all made me think about my life. You know, whether I like it or not, I'm not young anymore, I'm way past 30 which is the point that I consider to be the "end" of youth. I'm not old either. I can't really define old, I'll let you know when I feel it. I guess you could call the point I am at at the moment as in between. Not in the spring of my life, that's for sure. I'm not sure whether summer's up but if it isn't, it is definitely late summer. Perhaps this is the autumn of my life, my chance to really glow like the leaves, fervent and ablaze with colour. Because honestly, although I am still prone to bouts of depression here and there, I have never really felt better about myself. I don't care that I haven't had a haircut since Christmas, that my butt looks like the back of a bus, that I don't dress hip and trendy. I've finally come to realise that really, it doesn't matter one iota in the grand scheme of things. Not one, God damn iota. Like my little prince said, "What is essential is invisible to the eyes". It's what's on the inside that counts in the grand scheme of things.

I recently bought myself a book of poetry. It was on sale so I thought, oh, what the hell. It's simply called "Penguin's Poems for Life". Appropriate, as it takes the reader from the cradle to the grave. And while reading it, I came across a poignant poem that really defines this moment that I feel that I'm at, this autumn of sorts. It was written by Alison Fell and it's called "Pushing forty":

Just before winter
we see the trees show
their true colours:
the mad yellow of chestnuts
two maples like blood sisters
the orange beech
braver than lipstick

Pushing forty, we vow
that when the time comes
rahter than wither
ladylike and white
we will henna our hair
like Colette, we too
will be gold and red
and go out
in a last wild blaze

Now I'll leave ya with my 3rd favourite autumn song (the 1st being "Les Feuilles Mortes", bien sur, the 2nd being "September Song", but I'll leave that one for another post. Can't stick a Kurt Weill song just any old place, on the side, by the way. Deserves a bit more space than that...), sung by Ol' Blue Eyes, the Chairman of the Board himself, Mr. Frank Sinatra. Enjoy...