So the snow globe of life has shaken itself up once again and I am waiting for the pieces to fall gently back to the ground. 

It seems that everything this fall has been out of whack, out of balance, out of control.   A gust of wind changes direction and minds change and tastes change and no one seems to have any spare change.   I am a sensitive one, as many of you know, and so when there are flurries, I too, spin round and round, grasping at empty pockets of thin air, anxiously trying to find my footing once again.

Wall Street.  What a mess.  And we are all feeling the effects of it.  From gas prices to shows closing to extra sneaky charges at airports and fine fine prints.   My Pink Slip was handed to me two weeks ago and even though I shrugged my shoulders and said,  “who cares, no big deal, hated-it-anyway”, it is debilitating not to get up every morning and have somewhere to go.  I had someone expecting me.  I bustled in with my overpriced coffee and wore nice shoes.  I had a password.  Big Brother was watching me.  And I was getting paid.

Elections.  What a mess.  Our presidential nominees- two men who have given their time and money and unrelenting energy to this election.  Who have risked their lives or are at risk.  Who have stayed up late and stayed the course because each of them believes -whether you like them or not- that they are the best candidate to lead this country.  

And they love this country.  And they want nothing more than to take care of it and be in charge of it and clean up the mess that we are currently in.  And we smear them and jab them and call them names.

These two great men are now being reduced to "the Terrorist” and "that Old Goober”.  We no longer see them as who they are.  What they strive for.  Compassion has run out the door and we now impulsively react with Fear in the room.  We are black and white and white and white about how we feel.  With the past eight years of kicking and screaming and hatred I hope that we can stop seeing this as a battleground between red and blue and have a election filled with dignity and spirit.  No more off-color remarks.  No more smears.  No more lies.  

And mess bleeds on.  SAG is talking Strike.  Jobs are reduced daily.  Christmas parties are canceled.  And my phone has completely stopped ringing.

Through this windfall, or because of it, I have been aching to be with the women in my life.  My sisters and my sistahs.  My Indigo Girls and my secret life of bees and my Momma.  I long for their fleshy arms and open minds.  Women who wear their hearts on their sleeves and pick at the frosting on cupcakes. 

I have been lucky this season to have shared so much with women.  To have been in the company of girlfriends who have gossiped and giggled and planned weddings and played charades and drank wine and had lunches and went to museums and book signings with me.  I have been soothed by their comfort.  I have been inspired by their passion.

And there is a commonality among my women friends this season that can't be ignored.  They too, lost in the flurry, in that space between not-there-anymore and not-there-yet, in their own wind tunnel- fall into two categories.  They are either knocked up or they are knocked down. 

The pregnancies are everywhere you look.  Like the Harvest Moon who is full with the blessings of fertility, my women friends are full with the blessing of new life.  Their bellies are soft and muscular and their hormones are a-blazing.  They are pink and soft and happy and scared and amazed and radiant.  Their new power as new mothers-to-be is palpable.

And then on the other side of the sphere are those who have been knocked down.  Their hearts splitting in twos and threes and hundreds.  And as many embryo-anecdotes as I have heard over the past month- I have been witness to twice as many tears.  The heartache and the stomachaches and the emptiness that many of my friends are experiencing is raw and unrelenting.  The gust of wind that goes right though their fall coats reminds them that they no longer expect the same warmth.    

Sometimes I cry with them.  Sometimes I cry for them.  Sometimes I blabber on and make no sense and pull some bullshit out of the sky to try and mend them.  To let them know they will have both feet on the ground again soon.  And they will heal.  And they are loved.

My knocked up girls and my knocked down girls.  All swimming in the same air.  One silently weeping in the bathroom at a baby shower.  One needing some air at a wedding.  One cheering to success.  One drinking to forget.  All on new paths.  All of them meaningful and frightful and tough.  Some carry weight.  Some travel light. 

I find myself in neither of these categories and I feel lost in that too.  The emptiness that is carved out when no one shares your own personal private chaos.  I swirl around and around asking questions that lead to more questions that lead to more and more and more.

So I run to yoga class to calm down.  I slog to the gym to run around.  I slurp down coffee and then immediately need a nap. 

But as in the seasons, Change happens.  And everything eventually balances out.  The rich will find a way to stay rich.  Santa will get on his sleigh.  People will eat and drink and be merry and go see theatre and music and dance.  And the economy will work itself out. 

And we will have a new president-elect in less than two weeks (!).  And he will be the best man for the job and bring messages of Hope to this country.  And my friends’ waters will break.  And my friends’ hearts will mend.  And I will find my footing among the messy autumnal madness once again.  

Ericka's Shout Out:  Congrats to Bob and Julie.  You tied the knot and had one amazing party.  

Congrats to Jen Nails.  You wrote a book and it is a gift of your humor and spirit.  Please pick up "Next to Mexico" for your young readers and your young-at-heart friends.

Bizie-Newsie:  Maine Story plays on!  Northampton Ind. Film Festival, October 25th; Ojai Film Festival, Ojai, CA, November 7th & 8th; High Desert Shorts Film Festival, Pahrump, NV, November 8th; Alter-Native 16, Targu-Mures, Romania, November 5-9th; Red Rock Film Festival, Zion Canyon, UT, November 14th & 15th