
brittle (adj.)
"breaking easily and suddenly," late 14c.
Perhaps it’s something about Autumn, the leaves falling and crunching underfoot, and the pots that have graced the garden all summer fading and drying out, taking all their energy back to their roots, ready for winter.
Or maybe it’s the big companies (locally to me, it’s Rolls Royce) protecting their balance sheets by shedding a few thousand workers, anticipating that they will be able to grow new ones when and if a commercial Spring arrives.
Squirrels, like furry bankers, are hiding their nuts, hoping they can find them during the winter we can smell in the air.
Companies, people, politicians promises; they all feel brittle. End of season, depleted, tired, exhausted and fragile.
People working to processes in fear of, or worse, going along with, algorithmic assessments. Allowing their natural talent to be overridden by remote judgment and instruction.
There is something comforting and natural about where we are. A pause to regroup, rethink, and reconnect, ready for Spring, when new shoots and new opportunities will appear.
Right now, it's a time of disorder. It is to be welcomed as much as it feels uncomfortable because it's long overdue, and we can thrive on it if we turn to ourselves.
We have work to do over winter, getting ourselves in shape for Spring.
More as we go.