Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn–that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness–that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.

~Jane Austen

some simple shifts in clear seeing…..

inquiry for today~ tell yourself why and then notice….

under veils…

Nothing is absolute.

Everything changes,

everything moves,

everything revolves,

everything flies

and goes away.

I am that clumsy human,

always loving,

loving,

loving.

And loving.

And never,

Leaving.

~Frida Kahlo