seasons

Late Summer Thoughts

/ nagneberg48 / 10 Comments

August 15, 2023

Have you noticed that gardens are looking frowsy –overgrown and perhaps even a bit weary of their own lushness? Many trees in our part of the world look tired. The greens are no longer fresh and new. The fading has begun. Some trees seem eager even to shed their greenness and lighten their load.

Even the rose bush on the path can no longer hold up its head. I’ve had enough perkiness for one season, it seems to say.

Well, it is late summer, after all.

As a child at this point in the summer I remember feeling, “Oh good, the summer is almost over and soon school will begin.” I was always eager for the first day of school. And the second and third and…

Now, while I love fall much more than summer and spring and perhaps not quite as much as I love winter, I am learning in my 70’s to not wish this time away. No matter the season. For who knows what next summer will bring or if I will have a next summer. What losses and changes will the months leading to next summer bring?

I’m learning, slowly and not always so steadily, to be here now. Now.

Now in spite of the heat and the mosquitos, the increased laundry and ironing, the dust on the tables when the windows are open, the bulging traffic heading to the lake on Friday afternoons, the empty pews on Sunday mornings as people vacation, the complaints about rainy weekends, and even the expectations we better have fun or make good use of this time because “soon it will be winter.” (Good, I think, but only smile and nod.)

I am aware, however, that my reasons for fall and winter yearning have become less. After all once warm weather ends I will no longer be able to sit in the Paris garden. Going places, even the grocery store, will take more thought and effort. How many layers do I need to wear? Is it going to snow today? Maybe I should wait till tomorrow. During those months, there is always the concern that a snowstorm may derail plans.

And recently, I heard reports on NPR about the upcoming flu season and what shots and COVID vaccinations will be recommended.

No, none of the strong preferences or affiliations with a season make any real sense.

Just be here now.

Whether sweating or shivering.

Whether hanging out or hunkering in.

Whether adding ice to a tall drink or chopping ice off the sidewalks.

Joy Harjo in her book about why she writes, Catching the Light, says to “Start anywhere to catch the light.”

No matter the season, I say, may I catch the light of a long summer’s evening or the passing of a firefly or even the glimmer of a new idea or clarifying thought.

May I catch the light as it glistens and glides over wildflowers on the side of the road or flowers picked from our backyard garden and now arranged in a small white pitcher on my desk or the light that wraps and warms families playing, resting or reuniting.

Mainly what I’m paying attention to these days, as I attempt to Be Here Now, is the light within. That happens more and more as I lighten the load of regrets and desires unmet and the “shoulds” expressed in the expectations of others or, let’s face it, my expectations of myself.

I’m paying attention to the light that comes from the spaciousness of God’s love and of Jesus’s way, encouraging each of us to lighten up and to enlighten one another with love.

That’s the kind of light that knows no season, knows no time.

An Invitation

What thoughts are you having during these late summer days? I would love to know.

                           

Summer Spirituality

/ nagneberg48 / 4 Comments

June 20, 2023

After leaving “Paris,” our side garden and quiet, private space where I often enjoy lunch during the summer, and following the walkway to the back door to return to work time in the garret, this is what I see. Lushness. A multitude of colors and textures. Evidence of God’s creation, but also humanity’s creativity and effort.

I often say I am more of a winter person than a summer person, and that is basically true, but then I breathe in this beauty, thanks to the gifts of the master gardener with whom I live, and I think some part of me must be a summer person, too.

Perhaps acknowledging that I am more than one thing–that I am a winter person, a summer person, a fall person–is a reminder to continue the spiritual journey towards wholeness. To reach towards the person I was created to be, as my awareness of that whole creation continues to unfold.

Notice that I didn’t say I am a spring person. Minnesota often skips the spring season, going from snowstorm to heat stroke without the in-between of temperatures steadily and gently becoming warmer. The need for short sleeve shirts and open windows, along with a desire for trips to the lake, happens when our closets are still stuffed with winter coats, hats, mittens, and boots, and beds bulge with flannel sheets and heavy quilts.

Spring seems confusing to me, even irritating. I can do without the spring one day and the return to winter again the next. I have trouble finding a rhythm that works for me in the spring and spend time trying to understand what is basically unknown–as in “Is spring finally, actually here?” Probably not.

L. M. Montgomery, the author of the Anne of Green Gables books, once wrote , “I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.” Is that a wistful statement; a statement wishing it was always June? is that mainly an awareness of the beauties of June or is it a desire for the status quo, a comfort with the ways things are in the moment? Or is it a statement of concern? What if nothing ever changed? What if we didn’t grow? What if life was one way and one way only? What would happen if I remained tethered to my younger self and didn’t grow further into wisdom?

If I am to continue to grow into wholeness, as I know in my heart, the Divine, the Holy, desires for me, then I am called to be a spring person, too. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but perhaps summer will give me some perspective.

The seasons change. Today is a summer day and tomorrow will be, too. but it will be one day closer to fall. Today I am 75, two months, and 6 days old, and tomorrow I will add one more day to that tally or, if the unknown and unexpected occurs, I will no longer be any age. I think I am beginning to learn during these elder years how all the seasons of our lives add up to the wholeness of a life, the totality of who we were given the opportunity to be.

I hereby declare I am a summer person. I am a fall person. I am a winter person, and yes, I am a spring person, too. And I don’t want to waste one day or take any day, any season for granted.

Bloom where you are planted.

Mary Engelbreit

So you think this is just another day in your life? it’s not just another day. It is the one day that is given to you…today.

Br. David Steindl-Rast

An Invitation

At the recent writing group I facilitate, I posed the following questions for reflection:

  • What have you learned during the winter and spring months that will enhance these summer months? What do you bring with you from the recent months? What is unfinished? What do you need to leave behind?
  • What do you need this summer? A change of pace and/or place? Rest? Inspiration? Connection? What is the call for this summer?
  • What are your hopes for the summer? What is possible? What might the challenges be this summer?
  • Is there a spiritual practice calling you or a new approach or intention for something you already do? How might you open more to the presence of God in your life?

Your thoughts? I would love to know.