Flux

Flux, n.

The natural state. Our moods change. Our lives change. Our feelings for each other change. Our bearings change. The song changes. The air changes. The temperature of the shower changes.

Accept this.

We must accept this.

It seems appropriate, given the arrival of autumn, to consider how we navigate change, be it good or bad and more often than not out of our control.

Summer in the Southern Hemisphere is gone. It’s over. What’s done is done. I know this is probably something most people have already concluded, but where March felt transitory, April feels definitively autumnal. It’s dark at six, a jersey is no longer just a banal waist accessory, and lashings of avocado on toast is but a distant memory.

Change in nature, in the natural state of the world, often prompts nostalgia for what has finished, the beautiful ease of summer and the memory of how we felt. But the air is colder now, and will be for months to come. There will be no more summer fruit, nor sleeping in sheets with bare legs. The leaves have decided for us: there is no going back, only forwards. A state of flux is inevitable.

But perhaps we’re ready for something, someone, and somewhere else. And so, we search for new music, books, and art as companions; as necessary inspirations and navigators of the unknown.

Revel in it. Start something new, do something differently. The slate is clean.

x

Katie Higgie, Undone Girl

An Autumnal Playlist:

Hot Chip, Huarache Lights

Florence + the Machine, St.Jude

Tame Impala, Cause I’m a Man

Hozier, Someone New

Jungle, The Heat

Chet Faker, I Want Someone Badly

Jake Bugg, Two Fingers

Angus & Julia Stone, Crash and Burn

Haim, Let me Go

James Blake, 200 Press

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