Last Days of Summer

It has passed by like the lingering scent of roses growing by the roadside; one minute, a light fragrance of Nature on a breeze, and then the next minute, gone in the finality of a season. There were many ups and downs on my road over this past summer, days spent hunched over many details, small and large; nights spent sitting in front of my computer tap tap tapping away.

And now, here I am, once again back in school, and in the last fruitful days of a late summer. The sun is setting outside and I am in full swing of another year in University, but yet so far behind I am already scrambling to catch up.

So many memories from the past five months, too many to catalogue here and now, but as always, I will give it the old collegiate effort, and at least pull one from my bag of imagery. One defining moment from a season full of them, and I can only hope you live yours as I live mine. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

There was a light mist in the air, gathering on the element of wind, and swirling all around my existence. I was on a remote island just outside the inlet of St. Paul's, on the western coast of the Island of Newfoundland, and my group and I were in the final stages of an artic tern survey. We had spent the last number of hours traipsing amuck patches of sand and rock, counting tiny eggs to check population cycles of the bird with the longest migratory route of any known creature in the free world. It had been an amazing day and it would only prove to get better.

There we were, a group of park wardens, biologists, and a writer, walking across a narrow stretch of soggy land, reciting numbers of bird eggs and hatchling creations of God. Above our heads flew hundreds of ringwells, also commonly known as seagulls, screaming at us in anger and indignation for ruining their fun and their mealtime. They are on the lower spectrum of the food chain, and scrounge for whatever will fill their bellies, and this time they were after the artic tern.

I was garbed from head to toe in rain gear, from the waterproof hiking boots on my feet to the waterproof hood pulled snugly over my head, and yet my senses were still alive with the anarchy of my environment. Birds were flying helter skelter all about me, swooping through the air and diving into the ocean to rest before taking flight once again. Yet, for some odd reason, my group was cool, calm, and collected, and focused on our assignment with calculating precision.

That, in a nutshell, my friends, was my summer. At times during the last five months, I was surrounded by distractions of destruction and pain, sunshine and rain, and fleeting episodes of a random collection of stolen moments. I would go on surveys of the abstract kind, of counting birds here, there, and everywhere, or going on exotic adventures to magical places I have never seen before. But throughout it all, I stayed true to my course, dropped seconds and minutes until they were days spent behind a keyboard and mouse, tap tap tapping away until my goal was complete.

In the midst of chaos, I was my own personal guide of safe passage into the eye of the storm; returning from the calamity of personal history, more alive and confident then when I first entered the maelstrom. The product of this journey is now waiting patiently as I edit, edit, and edit some more. But, for the most part, the second draft of my book is complete; I have no more chapters to write, and only a couple more to revise.

I am almost home. And to think that to get there, I first had to make it back to the soil I was born on. That I had to travel all the way home to truly start my journey from the beginning.

Clarity waits for us all, my friends, it waits for us all to sort through the clutter and rubbish of negative thoughts; it waits for us to deconstruct our questions until they become answers, and it waits for us to see the truth in it all. If you are working hard and the answers seem to only be farther away, then breathe deep, step back and away, and come at it from another angle. Don't give in to the naysayers who rant and rave that it cannot be done, don't give in to your fear and let doubt be the overlord of your domain, and for the love of all that is sacred and just, don't give up on your dreams.

The road may look worn, tarnished, and dull from afar, but apply a little elbow grease and some hard work, and suddenly you may realize that it is actually paved in gold. Work a little harder, work another way, but keep working on that internal drive that says I can become more, I will become more, and then, one day not so far in the future, you will see that you are more. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star." - Nietzsche