On Wednesday night in the office during my last treatment of the day I had to turn one light on in the office. Yes, it was 7:00. Yes, it was only one tiny, low light. Yes, there was still plenty of wild summer light outside. However it was a sign. It was a marker of mid summer.
This has been a summer of decadence. As you may have noticed I’m blogging a lot less. It is one of the many ways I’ve let the business be light this summer. Though I’ve still had a good patient load I’ve allowed myself to drop one class at the Y, do less social networking and slow down on the weekly blogs in exchange for lots of summer delights.
Picking up the farm share and processing the food for an hour or two after returning, having friends over for long dinner parties, swimming, biking, gardening, napping and deeply resting have been my mode of business lately. I’m doing more yoga than ever and really enjoying some new fun areas of my practice. To be quite honest we are really savoring the summer.
But there still was this moment as I switched on that light that I panicked. Am I sucking the marrow out of every last 90 degree day? Am I fully appreciating the excess of light and the sensation of walking outside and being drenched in warmth?
The answer is less important than the realization that summer is fleeting. Its magnificence and abundance is precisely why we live in New England and not Florida or California. I don’t want it to be 95 all year long. I can barely take it, even though I love it.
The flux, change and flow of the seasons allow for different crops and different colors. Already the light is so different than even two or three weeks ago. We are still in this luxurious stretch, but it is obvious now which side we are on.
When I flipped on the light I felt the pull of autumn. The sacredness of a darkened, cozy space illuminated by a beautiful swath of light. I felt my little treatment room get smaller, safer. Summer is not the only magnificent time of year. Yes, I want to eat blueberries by the gallon right now, but in two weeks I’ll be desperate for sungold tomatoes and watermelon. In two months I’ll crave pumpkin again like I did last fall and the fall before that.
This season of pleasure is sometimes so much abundance we fear going back to the simplicity of the dead of winter. But there are gems in that simplicity. All that darkness illuminates its own share of mystery and enjoyment. So if you haven’t already, take stock. This is summer. We can’t possibly get deeper into summer than right now. Stop what you are doing and summer-ize your life a little. Buy berries and eat them until you are blue in the face (or red). Go swimming, take a nap, drink lemonade, watch the sun set and drink in all this beauty.
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