Rhythms and reflection
Summer is my favourite season. I love the heat, I want to feel the sun on my skin and the trickle of sweat down my spine. I want to feel the air hugging me, blurring the line between human and atmosphere. I love to swim, wear flowy clothing, walk barefoot, let my kids run around half naked, watch my garden grow, have grills surrounded by friends and fall asleep to the sound of a fan.
It is easier for me to be present in summer. To find joy in the moments. The problem is that I lose my evening routine and weekly rhythm in summer. We often have visitors in our apartment over the summer which means a lot of space sharing, and not a lot of alone time. I am not complaining, I enjoy it! But I need to get better at maintaining routines and planning in recovery time. We are busier with spontaneous social activities and nights tend to be later because the sun is up late. There are less fixed activities in the week because of summer holidays so the structure of my weeks takes a hit. I journal a lot less because of this, I cultivate less time in silence. The kids and I are out and about, enjoying the lake and the garden and simply being outside. I also need to process less because I am more present. I find it easier to human in summer so some of the safeguards I usually have to help me check in with myself fall away. I have less to say because I don't create space to think. I need to strike a balance otherwise I am exhausted by the time the days get shorter and the sun starts losing its strength.
For the last few years I have felt that Autumn is a time of reflection. This is probably because summer is often so full that when the days start shortening, the air gets cooler and time starts simultaneously slowing down and speeding up, something in me begins to feel chaotic. Like I need to process things and place them somewhere or else my mind is cluttered and I can't think clearly. I am in that phase at the moment. I enjoy Autumn, the colours, the food, the way the air is sharper and the sun more golden. I really enjoy the process of reflection. It helps me deal with the subtle dread I get as summer wanes. The book that I read to kick off my processing this year is Hannah Brencher`s new book The Unpluged Hours. I would highly recommend it if you want to be present but don't know where to start. If you want to create more and consume less. It reads like talking to a wise friend. Some of it inspired me to immediate action and some chapters are still turning around in my mind as I look at my life.
I have been thinking about my writing during this time, of course. I have mixed feelings toward this blog. One part of me wants to be consistent and ever improving but another part is so tired of self improvement taking so much space in my mind. I want to produce quality writing and show up in your inboxes regularly. I also want to allow myself to do this fully for me, as was my intention when I started this. As I realise, more and more, I am complicated. I often want two things simultaneously. I walk with a tension inside me and I am trying to silence the excess noise pulling at me in so many directions. I want to navigate this journey and learn again and again to observe myself with curiosity and not judgement. I want to allow myself to work toward a goal and be okay with taking two steps forward and one step back. I want to stop comparing myself to all the people who publish good writing consistently. I want to be content with the decisions I have made, to rather spend my time sleeping or talking to a friend or being present for my family or finishing up some admin, than to write in those moments where I could have. I want to be honest about the time I have wasted and strategise how I could show up for myself like I said I would. I want to push back at the voice that is asking what other people will think and tune in to the voices I have intentionally decided to prioritise.
Perhaps summer is for poetry and prayers. Perhaps I can lean into the patterns I see without letting them rule me. A balance of my natural rhythms and a helpful structure. Perhaps I can understand the reasons behind my twitching for distraction, one question at a time. Perhaps being present for the journey is so much more satisfying than the achievement at the end.
As I watch myself: still struggling with certain things, working diligently through other things, overcoming and growing, fighting again to be present despite often failing. I watch the me who shoves fish fingers in the oven with two crying children hanging on her legs while she counts the hours until they are asleep so she can curl up with a book and escape her life… and the me with a vegetable curry simmering in her orange cast iron pot, she dramatically turns up the music and dances with two enthusiastic little partners, as present in this moment as their laughter on her neck. I watch her shouting when she should have been crouching down to listen and singing when she could have been sighing.
I get a feeling of love for this girl. All the parts.
I wanted to invite you into Reflautumn…(Anyone? Just me? Ok cool).I have some questions for you:
Do you take time to observe yourself with curiosity, without making a judgement? If you find this difficult, why do you think that is?
What is working for you and has been for the last few months, bringing life and joy? What is draining you?
Have you noticed rhythms in your year, months, weeks or days that you could lean into?
What is pulling you away from being present?
Do you take time to ask yourself why you want to escape or be distracted or get some dopamine? Look for common situations where you tend toward it and then try to see if there is a reason, it could be habit or comfort or overwhelm or avoidance of certain feelings.
How do you feel about yourself?
I realise that a lot of this may not resonate with my friends reading in South Africa but I hope you take time to sit with yourself as you head into the warmer months. Hand on your heart, breathing slow and deep. How are you?
As I end this post I hope that within the reflecting and observing, amidst the changing of seasons and the weightiness of life, you encounter joy. Joy hiding in the ordinariness of it all. Joy in being honest with yourself, joy in being present. Joy wide awake.
Waken in Me a Sense of Joy
O extravagant God,
in this ripening, red-tinged autumn,
waken in me a sense of joy
in just being alive,
joy for nothing in general
except everything in particular;
joy in sun and rain
mating with earth to birth a harvest;
joy in soft light
through shyly disrobing trees;
joy in acolyte moon
setting halos around processing clouds;
joy in the beating of a thousand wings
mysteriously knowing which way is warm;
joy in wagging tails and kids' smiles
and in this spunky old city;
joy in the taste of bread and wine,
the smell of dawn,
a touch,
a song,
a presence;
joy in having what I cannot live without —
other people to hold and cry and laugh with
joy in love,
in you;
and that all at first and last
is grace.
Ted Loder, Guerrillas of Grace
Pretty Pumpkins, some Autumn joys.
Sunflowers catching the afternoon light and a bee catching the nectar. My garden still has a few flowering.