Age-Old Songs [Counting on an unpredictable tide for deliverance]

It occurred to me a couple weeks ago that since I've been here I haven't gone for any walks up in the woods, or even just around the lake. That doesn't mean I've been unaware of the natural world, on the contrary I always notice the smell of the air, the color of the sky, the way orange leaves on the ground contrast with the green grass, the ripples on the lake. But I never go out just to appreciate that and be close to it. Instead there are just these hasty observations as I hurry from one place to another, juggling classes and activities and studying and various errands.

The weather, the air, the sheer beauty of the hills, especially in the fall, have always combined to have a very positive effect on me. Last year that was an overabundance of energy, an exuberance which kept me going with hardly any sleep through the entire fall semester. This year I can still feel the influence of my environment, but the effect is different. As I look at the light gleaming on the chapel dome, the view of the lake and hills from the top of the Persson steps, smell the crisp autumn air, I feel calmed and relaxed. This place still brings me peace, and though I still wish it could bring me joy again, sometimes peace is enough.

Yes, so it's definitely turning into a loner year, or at least semester. I have various groups of people to hang around with, but I only really feel a part of things sporadically. Band is wonderful as an activity, but it's not turning into a social center the way I'd hoped it would. There's no group of people that really feels like home. So, as I suspected I might this year, I'm immersing myself in my work and my music and my own periodic personal crises. I don't think there's any reason that this is necessarily a bad thing. But sometimes it's disappointing to realize that connection with any given person is always fading in and out, and that there's no one anywhere that I feel comfortable turning to about most things, and that now I really am going it alone.

It's been a morning of writing really terrible poetry, and although the product isn't much good it's somehow comforting to know the instinct is back. I suspect that I'm going to start turning to paper and pen and blank WordPad documents again to say what I need to say to someone, anyone, even just to have it reflected back to me.