These light, long days fill me up. Sitting on the porch, mowing, walking—all seem infused with soft, easy pleasure, as the light in the day elongates. The morning’s soft glow seeping into the day so much earlier, the evenings expanded with darkness deferred, as we flow toward solstice, what a glorious time it is.
Springtime awakens the child in me.
Girl Scout camp probably saved that child. Summer after summer I lived on the earth, close to the rhythm of the rain tapping on the canvas tent, celebrating the cacophony of bird call, the wet dew soaking my sneakers as I dashed toward the dining hall for breakfast of thick oatmeal and thin, sugary hot chocolate, alive with the thrill of the new day. For so many reasons the culture of Girl Scout camp rescued me; living within nature, knowing the rhythms of the day intimately in my body, memorizing the twist of each trail, savoring the silky lake water on my young body was the most profound and impactful of gifts.
Springtime reunites me with that child.
Today was crystal blue, cool and warm at the same time, the interplay of sun and wind perfectly choreographed as if for my very own pleasure. I don’t remember a spring quite this green, quite this alive with lush life. Perhaps I just forget.
Sitting on the porch this stunning evening, however, I felt a tingle of anticipatory anxiety, as I remember, come solstice, the light will begin her journey away from us. It clutched at my heart, this fear, as if I were a little kid again, doomed to return home from camp, facing school and sidewalks and stuttering and a counselor-free world.
I respect my own anxiety.
I breathe into my own longing.
I acknowledge my own fear of loss and change.
I choose to slow down, to savor the beauty around me.
I choose to stand outside and be there for the standing, allowing myself to rejoice in the touch of gentle air on my body.
I choose to relax and move, to rest and play, to look inside as I look out.
I choose to honor the little girl in me who adores the promise of spring and summer’s freedom.
Ahhhh. All good, right?
Yet if I were coaching this Aruni, Aruni—the–Client, I would say to her, hopefully with light and loving encouragement:
“Well, Aruni, your intentions sound powerful and well-directed. Great inspiration. Yet, here’s my question–what is it going to look like? Can you be just a tad more specific? We know that inspiration is not enough to change your brain, your body, and your behavior. So, what do you think? What practices can you create, to live into these intentions?”
Okay, Coach Aruni, I hear you. Here is my more grounded plan for savoring the light, for celebrating spring, for living into summer with open-hearted delight, without being dimmed with the fear of its ending. Here is my plan for being alive like that little girl who woke up in the tent and listened, with awe-filled fascination, to the celebration of life around here:
- I will participate, as I am able, in the sunrise and the sunset of each day. I will watch and feel, as I can, these profound transitions.
- I will look with open heart for the animals; and when I encounter them, I will greet them with purposeful intent.
- I will relax more into the day, rather than pushing and exercising my way through; permission for age-appropriate rest is granted, as my body redefines moving and playing.
- I will feel my fear of losing the light, acknowledge its presence, and lean back into the celebration of what is.
Dear friends, that’s my plan. Those are the spacious riverbanks through which I choose to swim these next few months.
What about you? Do you have any hopes and intentions for yourself as the light intensifies, as the solstice peaks, as the summer prepares to wrap her sweaty arms around us? What are your bigger picture hopes for yourself and, so importantly, how will you create the circumstances in which those intentions can unfold? Please do keep me posted. I am Aruni@rnetworx.com. All voices welcomed, all experiences sacred.
Here’s to the savoring of the light—
Here’s to the sanctity of the moment—
No matter what is happening.