Winds of Chance

The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.
– Vincent Van Gogh

Ah, my cunning October, you month of change and chance. You deliver me birthdays and death nights, hail me on windswept moors and lure me with tropical gales. Under your widespread wings, I taste blood reds and hear the sound of cobalt blue. You revel in testing my mettle, unevenly weighting my Libra scales. You love to tip me off balance – see if I will catch the fall. But in the slant of sunset, eye on the wild – I go against the wind.

If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time.
– Marcel Proust

Ah, my inseparable October, under your leafy umbrella I’ve reclaimed loss and lost untold claims. I’ve lost a mother and an intercontinental lover to your arms – with all the fallout fall can bring. But I’ve unearthed immeasurable treasure as you turn your leaves from rust to gold. My deepest secret is the treasure of all our secrets. What about that rendezvous or two at once – or twice and some, so many Sanguine Moons and seas apart? What about those caves and coliseums, backstretch barns and barefoot bars? What about our rituals – and all those twists and trysts we wrangled? What about our latest vision?

In your autumnal glory, you delight to twirl the zodiac. A croupier spinning a wheel of fortune, you fling me into another month when I don’t conform to all your ways. If I balk at classical symmetry (because I find it static) you can’t figure out what to do with me. But often I’m more asymmetrically aligned – inclined. What’s the sin in ebb and flow – and windy gusts of chance?

That’s a good way to live, go against the wind.
– Bob Seger

Oh Octo, you tenth month of the year, you transitional – you always want me to reconnect and reconcile – but I prefer to resurrect and reinvent. Take flight. You know damn well pilots (and birds who want to soar) take off into the wind for better lift off. So go ahead, edge me up with your So Cal Santa Anas or freeze me with a blast of Canadian Chinooks. Frenzy me with an unexpected African Sirocco – entice me with eternal possibilities. I know fire and ice. And you know, I know ­­–

The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure, the process is its own reward.
– Amelia Earhart 

You seduce me with your deco mirrors reflecting a second chance. I planned to post a blog a month ago (technically in Virgo) but I held out beyond the cusp because I didn’t want to cheat on you. Now in the raptures of your October charms, I’m free to roll the dice. In the litany of our relationship (tangled and trusted), I’ve fallen under alchemy and taken over gigs – ones I never asked for, never dreamed of – some I never wanted. I’ve worn masks but bypassed all the masquerades. I’ve galloped victory laps and bit the dust. Risen with the Hunter’s Moon and tumbled in your glory. But I’ll never leave you. Your leaves have cast their spell.

So my intimate October – Happy Birthday! Parade your ghouls and skeletons as your last hurrah, I’ll take you on. Opal me a chunk of iridescence, filled with veins of mystic silver – striations of greens and rose and indigo snaking without end. I’ll drink your serum of illusion – equal parts of truth and beauty. Yet fair warning my love – this nocturnal Libra strives for equilibrium and harmony but when I vortex with my ruling planet Venus – all bets are off. It’s like the winds of chance!