XVI: seasonal aura-gies

"To follow with the eye- while resting on a summer afternoon- a mountain range on the horizon or a branch that casts its shadow on the beholder is to breathe the aura of those mountains, of that branch... For the aura is bound to his presence in the here and now. There is no facsimile of the aura."

When I breathe the aura of imperfect silence at the peak of a steep pitch, I stare in awe at the painted canvas before me and realize, not quite for the first time, how utterly small I am. I am humbled, I am excused because I am limited by human proportions. I cannot track every peak with the edges of my skis, but I can revel in the aura and respect that which is unconquerable, that which is larger than I.

When I breathe the aura of the hopeful thaw, as winter kneels in kind submission, I feel simple tasks are more easily accomplished when the sun is shining. Metaphorically, yes, but literally: Sun out, Sunshades down, Chin up, Purpose within. I am prepared, I am present because I am human. That summer dilly dallies at the end of the block makes me sprint, slow to a jog, then sprint again. I am free, I am more naked now that the sun clothes me!

When I breathe the aura of heavy leisure, an idle heat hangs from the crowns, I hear high pitched giggles emanating from the park across the street and concentric circles of happiness reach me in my bedroom, slowing my slumber. So, I borrow a few circles! I lace up my sneakers, I run to the park and I don't plan stopping. I run, the soles of my shoes conversing with the asphalt, until the heat halts me. Head home, it whispers through the light breeze on my face. I listen to the ebb and flow of exertion, and lay in the grass where no appointment is necessary.

When I breathe the aura of impending academia, I smell fresh plastic binders, rubber erasers and smooth inky pens, their aromas beckon me to restock, as if owning equipment alone will foster success. Success is elusive, I am told. Yet, it's comforting to know that September always schedules a holiday, right around Labor Day, celebrating the notion of motivation. A fresh start, a new beginning, invisibly marked on each pupil's calendar. Zenith! and the bright stars still hover in the sky, remnants of a summer that soothes us.