We're in our rainy season here in the subtropics. This is the time of the year where the sky stays dark, the water is gloomy, and there is a visible grey pallor in the air between you and the pines. Sometimes it looks as if the world will never be happy again.
For all of it's grey and darkness, I revel in this time of the year. The ghostliness that hangs in the air holds my attention longer than any bright day. There seems to be a magic out there in the gloom, a certain possibility of little unseen things running in the bushes. I half expect to see the tail of some creature slithering back into the underbrush when I walk by. Reality is suspended for just few precious moments.
There's magic in the darkness. At the risk of sounded like some half baked guru, it's this time of the year that makes me want to work on myself the most. When the world is still and quiet, the possibilities seem endless. Perhaps I can manage to tame a wild crow, will the wind to blow, or at least manage to make my bed everyday. It is in the gloomy stillness that I feel the most at home.
