Hello.
Every August I find myself yearning for autumn. It’s when summer feels on the cusp of overstaying her welcome and I’m seduced by thoughts of moody days and cozy sweaters. Summer lasts a long time in Sacramento, well into October, and some years it’s torturous to wait three more months for the respite of fall.
This year I’m approaching August a bit differently. Instead of allowing my thoughts to dwell on the out-of-reach, I’m sinking into the heat and light like a lizard on a sun-baked stone. I’m stretching into it like a cat uncurling from a nap just long enough to open one eye and spread my claws wide before tucking back into myself. I’m making plans to laze and lounge, languid in linen and slow in my approach to, well, everything.
There is something seductive about letting yourself surrender to whatever season you’re in, embodying it wholly. The want of something just out of reach feels unnecessarily crushing when what lies at your feet is just as wonderful, but in a different way. The surrender places your presence so exquisitely in the now that there is no want. Only awareness of where your body is exactly in this moment in space-time. Only appreciation for what exists right now, in this perfect moment.
To honor where I am right now, I will be reveling in August. I will let her guide me to celebrate what is, not what’s next. I will revel as an act of resistance—against rushing, against yearning, against the belief that satisfaction lives in some other time or place. To revel is to linger. To steep. To become so present that time loosens its grip and the ordinary becomes sacred.
For me, this will look like . . .
A tomato and mayo sandwich that drips down my arms.
An afternoon spread under an umbrella with a book that feels like escape.
Lingering over a long lunch in a bistro with air so cold I need a cardigan.
A Black and white film in a dark theater on a radiant afternoon.
Morning coffee in the garden as the sun and heat rise.
Floating down the icy cold river in an inner tube, the tinkling laughter of friends my soundtrack.
A slow walk at twilight, when the air feels thick and heavy like a blanket.
I agree, living in the now is the way to go, because you never know what that next season will bring. I appreciate your writing✌️