Oíche Shamhna

Autumn is a time of considerable change- a time for preparation. The world hunkers down and gets ready for winter. Our massive oak trees shed all their leaves, burying my backyard in a sea of brown, reminding me that my leaf blower is broken. The squirrels and the blue jays posture violently with each other, squawking and squealing, as they to try to gather the acorns that have fallen onto our roof. The power company goes into overdrive replacing telephone poles and trimming trees along our windy mountain road before the rains hit - local residents complain of the shoddy butchery done to their foliage. Bears start packing on the pounds for their big sleep (I don't think we have local bears... but it's just... iconic, you know?). And Santa Cruz well and truly shuts down. Tourist season is over, and the sleepy beach town that has been here for over 130 years returns to its roots.

I always like this time of year. Walking across the nearly deserted beaches, or hitting the serenely quiet redwood trails in solitude... it's a great time for reflection. I find myself undergoing a number of changes as well during this season. Finishing what projects that I can on the house: Getting the grass planted before the frosts come, patching the road so that my nice new fence doesn't drown in a lake of rainwater, painting my bathroom with mold resistant paint. And... looking for a new job. Or to be more realistic... looking for a new career. The mortgage industry doesn't really have a place for me anymore. It's a surprising turn of events that has left many professionals in the same land of confusion that I find myself. Where to go from here? What do I do about money? I can't work on my house forever...

As I sit on my couch and stare out of my skylight, a crow walks along one of the larger branches of our tree and methodically picks twigs from it, dropping each of them with a mildly annoying thud onto my roof. The mildly annoyed part of my brain begins to suspect that this crow might be the reason I recently keep waking up at ungodly hours of the morning, but the introspective part questions the purpose of this crow's behavior. What is the motivation?? Is it looking for bugs? Or is it simply bored? Or is there some other unfathomable purpose that I cannot divine? Is it a sign?

After a few minutes of thought, I suddenly realize that I know the answer. The crow is doing exactly what it must in order to survive to the next season. Whether it's looking for food sources or trying to build a nest makes no difference at all. Driven by boredom or driven by instinct, this crow plucks at the twigs so that it may prevail until Spring.

And that's when I see the connection. My fruitless bids for employment, my slashing of the budget, my mad scampering to fix the house... it's no different than the shedding oaks, or the power company, or the inscrutable crow. I'm simply picking away at the twigs - keeping busy with the things that need to be done this Autumn so that I too can prevail. Everything is going to be okay.

I'm preparing for Winter.