This Autumn Whiff

Behind my life experiences.  Beyond what I project on the outside. Below this clutter.  Underneath this trauma.  On the other side of this fear.  I’m still there.  As always.  I never left. What I notice most about the autumn season is the smell.  This dank scent that instantly takes me back to simpler times.  Jumping.  Rolling.  Hiding.  In these fallen leaves.  Laughing.  Living.  In the moment.  The fall season always seems to reawaken memories of my childhood.  That young boy growing up near Boston in the early 70s.  Oftentimes, I wonder how different I would be today if my family had never moved back to Canada in 1976.  How would I look?  Would I be riding bikes?  Would I have a family?  Would I be eating the same foods?  Would I be reading the same books?  Would I be writing the same words?  Would I still have the same values?  Would I still be me?  Even if pondering things that could have been is in essence pointless, I still find it fascinating to contemplate such scenarios.  My interest has nothing to do with regret.  It’s more a way of making me realize who I really am by showing me who I am not.  Revisiting the early years of my life brings me closer to the blessed state of pure beingness into which we are all born.  A time before we were broken.  A time before we developed all of these hang-ups in order to survive.  A time before the emergence of our ego.  A time before we started playing these social characters.  A time before assuming these grown-up roles.  A time before all this loss.  I’m not sure how, but for some reason, the aroma of these fall leaves make me feel closer to my true self.  Closer to the pure consciousness that I am.  Closer to the untamed me.  Can you smell it?  This autumn whiff.