Smelling Memories

I noticed this morning, while reading my book in front of the open window, that the summer's air smells a bit different now. At the start of summer it always seems to carry the scent of sun screen, heat, grills, and mowed lawns. The earthy smell of spring has gone because snow leftover from winter is no longer melting into the ground giving off the damp smell of the earth.

Now, the air smells more like the ground again due to cooler nights, the occasionally mowed lawn, and less like sunscreen and more like a freshly opened pack of loose leaf paper. The spice of autumn is not present yet, but the promise of change is in the air as well.

It is said that smell, out of all of the five senses, is the one to trigger memory in the strongest way. I will say I agree. As I caught of whiff of the air a bunch of emotions and memories came rushing to the front of my brain. I remember going school supplies shopping with my mom and siblings toward the end of August every year: the smell of crisp new notebooks, fresh rubber from a brand new pair of sneakers, and the feel of never worn before cotton t-shirts.

How can I describe years of memories of anticipation for school to start (though usually by Christmas break I'd be ready for the year to be over)? The disappointment summer is over and staying out way after dark is no longer possible? The putting away of swim suits and getting out the old comfortable sweatshirts that I'd curl up in on a cool rainy day while watching favorite classic movies like The Sound of Music and The Wizard of Oz?

Though it is still summer I can smell my memories on the edge of the wind. The promise of change, but also the promise of something familiar and comforting. I must admit however, this year, autumn will be a little bitter sweet for me. It's the first fall, since I was five years old, I will not be going to school. I graduated college last December and do not have any more schooling (at least at this point). Spring wasn't even difficult because I was getting ready to go to Europe, but stores now have discounts on school supplies and back packs, and I see little kids with eagerness on their faces and they pick out the folders they want for each class, and can not help but feel a bit sad. I already miss campus. It was always beautiful in the fall.

No matter how sad I may be by this simple change, I am also glad for it. It gives me something new to create a memory. I'm not sure what I'll look forward to in the coming years when I smell the changing breeze, but I hope it's something pleasant, even if it ends up being bitter sweet.

Limits

What limits us?

Fear? Indecision? Or just a part of who we are? When the time to act is upon us and we do nothing, how is it we can reasonably justify our idleness? In a world where things are already complicated enough, do we excuse our lack of action with a series of convoluted half-truths, so we don't have to feel bad about the things we do not do?

So here is my question: is anything actually complicated, or do we just make it complicated because it's easier than owning up to the truth? When I think about everything I do that requires action and decision, the out-come, no matter the situation, is never as terrifying or uncomfortable as I've imagined; with that, sometimes the out-come is quite pleasant. And typically after I've "acted" or "decided" I feel better. Like an internal Feng Shui.

So why are there times when I still do not act? Why do I limit myself? It's no good for me: I brood on the chances I do not take, I envy those who do what I do not, and when I'm unhappy because this, I become angry at myself, because I am the source of my own unhappiness. Yet, despite all this, I still do not act.

What limits us when we know the only barrier between moving forward and being left behind is ourself?