End of October. What are you doing there? Between summer and winter holidays between sun and snow, autumn is a traditionally less traveled month. Fall time is the time to sit at home and make yourself comfortable. Drink tea, bake a cake, a log fire and in between a wonderful autumn walk. Spend sunny autumn afternoons between leaves turning in the wind and sporadically pick up a chestnut from the ground ...
Okay, the text would certainly have been better placed in the New Post because it carries a bit of romantic pathos, but if there's a time when romantic pathos are acceptable, then fall. Autumn and romance unite the "yearning for the lost, for a lost time, for a lost harmony of man with the world".
End of October. I write travel columns about the beauty of autumn. But actually I write about something else: a song of praise to the seasons.
Seasons make life so much more complex. The memories change with every season. Suddenly it's autumn and you think back to the fall of last year, three years ago, ten years ago. How to stand on the football pitch and use the last beautiful autumn days to play football, the autumn air, the leaves coloring and the stormy autumn rain. But I also think back to autumn days spent on distant continents. Fall in Korea, Indian Summer in New England, or [insert own travel experience].
The sensory impressions of the beginning of autumn, like the beginning of each season, are coupled with certain experiences, memories and activities in life, which can be assigned to exactly this (one) set of sensations of the particular season.
With the four seasons, compared to the division between dry and wet season, there are 4 and not just 2 "memory locations" on which we store information associatively structured. We associate things that we will experience in autumn with the foliage colors, the autumn air, the stormy autumn rain. And these weather conditions in turn can then in the following years again recall certain memories and events. This is possible because every season has its own quality for itself.
As we move away from the present, things tend to take on blur in our memory, to blur and to escape our everyday lives altogether. However, associative bonding with a particular season gives many memories that are refreshed at the appropriate time - and the beginning of each season pushes many of those memories relentlessly back into our consciousness. This again creates something like a circular time consciousness, that is, a recurrent rhythm that contrasts with the historical consciousness, which is constantly progressing linearly (date, years, etc.). Helpful for this topic is this review of the ZEIT from 1954 about Ernst Jünger's "Das Houruhrbuch".
It was not so long ago that I decided to go somewhere where the sun shines all year - just no German winter anymore! Today it is hard for me to put myself in the folly of my past self. The list of things I would miss is ellen>
That's why I say: year at the times! And no to the idealized depictions of the Digital Nomad, which lies at 25 ° C and sunshine all year in a Southeast Asian hammock. Time is moving and for me it is only really tangible because of the changes around us - and the seasons are the poster child of change.
Thank you seasons, that it gives you.
And then I'm looking forward to the hammock all the more. ;)