Snapshots: Sanity in Septemper

A photo lit by late afternoon sunlight slanting into the room. There is an acoustic guitar on the left hand side, a table next to it is covered in small plant pots and draped with brightly coloured scarves.

As half of Instagram reposts back garden bikini shots and the other half start throwing pumpkins and redefining “rainbow” as “many shades of golden-orange and red”, September is an interesting time to be alive.

If you’d like this post read aloud please click here for a link to an audio file on google drive (I’m hoping to embed audio more smoothly in future but ran a marathon of technical glitches this time around! Google drive will open in a new tab).

Last month was a struggle for me (an odd sentence to type in this draft, referring to my 29th of September self in the past tense). I had medical appointments where I realised just how unaccustomed I am to being around people after months at home, I had phone calls and sunlight and a fear of loosing that sun to winter in the not too distant future… But not being able to see my friend’s cosy fire place or laugh over swapping hats and scarves with people at music group.

A close up of the sunlit table from the earlier photo, slightly out of focus in a way that softens all the edges.

So this is a post of snapshots, of golden light moments before the sun seems to bleach itself white behind winter cloud, of rabbits who are fluffier than they were a month ago but still to be found sunbathing occasionally, photographs of reality and of sanity. Or rather, my attempts at retaining what little I have left…

The gallery above tells a story of every day with Hunny and Arthur. One photo where she’s reaching her nose out to him followed by another where she’s moved even closer and he’s cleaning her form a perfect summary of so many moments I’ve witnessed but not had a camera for. She knows what she wants and somehow never fails to get it, there’s a lot I could learn from that rabbit. (For clarity: Hunny is the white fluffy one, Arthur is mostly brown and velvety soft.)

Golden sunlight hitting a grass bank at the edge of a field.

It means something to me that these photos complement each other so well. The third is grass at the edge of a field, caught in golden evening sunlight. I took that when out with my mother, a moment in time when I felt ordinary in the most beautiful way. The two mirror selfies above hold a similar tone but were taken after a difficult day spent mostly in bed, I opened the curtains to that light because I needed a reminder of why I’ve ever thought it’s worth spending quiet hours, days, weeks and years alone in bed in the dark.

Digital photo of purple thistle flowers lining the edge of a public foot path along a field. Some flowers are blurred close to the camera and the trees are slightly unfocused, softened at the edges in the distance.
Another mirror selfie, as before.

I’m the same person. It’s not some trade off where I switch myself off and rest in order to pay for experiences where I’m the “real me”. I’m always there when it hurts and it always hurts when I’m dancing in the sun. Sometimes it’s nice to have photographic evidence to tie those days together, even if the dark moments themselves aren’t accessible to my camera.

Thank you for visiting and scrolling through some recent memories with me. I enjoy creating posts like this, it feels like building a quiet space for thought and connection. To myself or to someone else, I’m not sure! Either way, I hope you found something similar in reading this to the peace I felt in writing it. And if you do enjoy this style of post, I have similar feelings towards Quiet Evenings with my Music from July so you might like that one too.

Photograph of Sakara in partial shade looking directly at the camera, the acoustic guitar and table of plants from previous photos are visible behind her.

Until next time,

Sakara x

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