This summer has flown by as summers tend to do.
June marched in with themes of lavender trees, lemonade and letting goes. July a burst of peonies, personal revelations and road trip expeditions. And now it’s the rush of August- the rainy season- and I find myself reflective, staring out my window at a scene of giant, drizzled green trees: Life needs the rain just as much as the sun to continue its growth.
I said goodbye to July by saying hello to 39; an age that feels less like a number and more like a wisdom. I didn’t expect to greet the new year in this space, yet I find myself embracing another year with new knowing that has been accelerated by the loss of my brother, harnessed by the miraculous, fleeting nature of life.
Then 39 gave way to August, and the life outside my window is growing tall and strong and green as the raindrops from the sky nurture, and the brief bits of chill that are entering the air slowly begin to do their work of transformation- I saw a yellow leaf on my run the other day and just kept on running, not ready to concede the light of these summer times to the touch of an early fall.
Things have been a bit more quiet on this blog as of late. In part because I am trying to realize as much of the summer as I can, create memories of beauty and light before it all fades away. In part because I am busy with other writing projects and publications, and there is only so much time in the day to keep up with it all.
But in large part, because things are in transition right now. And I find myself busy living the change, even though I couldn’t tell you exactly what all the change is. It has become more than just our move to Kauai: I am finding that just as I have begun to clear space in our home through releasing, recycling and reselling, so am I participating in a parallel process inside of myself through reevaluation, repurposing and reweaving.
I left 38 a different person than I started it, and now I find myself in an invisible space of transition at the beginning of 39. A blackout of sorts where I can’t quite see the bigger picture to even begin to describe my scene. Mostly I just feel the shifts, living life in an undefinable space- not quite where I want to go, far from where I used to be- seeing where life chooses to grow like the great, green trees I see outside.
When I was younger I was scared of these shifts, living under the pretense that I was always supposed have a sense of status quo of self; supposed to return to a core set point every time I was knocked out of equilibrium. I’m sorry, I’m just not myself, I’d say, as if this was some terrible thing that needed to be remedied immediately. And now I know that those words- I’m just not myself– are always an invitation from life to grow into a new set point of self and leave the old status quo behind.
I can’t say I always love it, being in that invisible space of transition, but I can say I’ve learned to recognize and embrace the space of not knowing when it comes to the possibility of tomorrow. I do know where I’ll be tomorrow, but I don’t know quite who I’ll be. And there is great relief and release in accepting the undefinable process over the certainty of knowing.
Right now? I live that change, find a new set point, let myself be out of sorts for awhile as I sort through all the pieces that no longer belong in my home.
In the meantime, August is here, and there are tremendous lessons in the space of right now, late summer adventures to be had and beautiful things to find in each day. And there is continuing to grow, to reach towards the light in a bloom of haphazard green. And learning to turn each time the winds come,
And change when Life invites me to gold.