Usually the first week of August is when I find myself trying to put the brakes on a runaway summer. I start to prepare myself for the transition into a new fall routine. I look to the evening skies as proof that the days are getting shorter. My habit is to overly prepare when it comes to significant transitions.
This year feels different, however. I’m still trying to will time to slow down so I can stay immersed in the easy summer rhythm of goldfinches at the feeder and late dinners on the deck.
And at the same time, I want fall to hurry and arrive while our local virus numbers remain low so my kids can go back to having school in person. It’s hard not knowing how things will play out. It means having to hold any expectations really, really loosely.
I had a dream last night that I couldn’t find my car which I had parked on the street. It was an unfamiliar city, and I needed to get home to my family. Most of the dream involved walking around looking and looking, while racking my brain to remember any visual cues or landmarks from when I had parked my car earlier in the dream. Eventually, I got on my bike to ride home in the dark.
The feeling sense in the dream was of unease, confusion and a sense of messing up. There was an awareness of not being able to control the situation and not having the power to remedy what was wrong.
And it all makes sense given our current circumstances. I have no power to control how things unfold as we attempt to get the kids back to school. There’s a need to look uncertainty full-on and remain grounded, yet flexible, hopeful yet prepared for disappointment.
It feels like a martial art form. So, I come back to the breath. I feel my feet rooted on the floor and I allow my torso to expand and contract with the inhale and exhale.
I realize that all that is required is my presence, my willingness to be with each day as it arrives. There’s no need to grasp at a future that has yet to appear. There’s no need to perform the mental gymnastics of “what if.”
Today is cool and rainy. The sky is gray and the clouds seem to be hovering in place, as if they have nowhere else to be but here. I see a streak of bright yellow flash through my vision as a goldfinch darts back to the shelter of the big tree out my window.
It’s okay for me to just be here with the clouds and the goldfinch, to rest in the perfection of this moment. The fall is going to figure itself out regardless of any efforting on my part. And I have nowhere else to be but here.
What does "nowhere else but here" bring up for you? What happens if you let yourself settle into THIS moment? What do you feel yourself letting go of?
This year feels different, however. I’m still trying to will time to slow down so I can stay immersed in the easy summer rhythm of goldfinches at the feeder and late dinners on the deck.
And at the same time, I want fall to hurry and arrive while our local virus numbers remain low so my kids can go back to having school in person. It’s hard not knowing how things will play out. It means having to hold any expectations really, really loosely.
I had a dream last night that I couldn’t find my car which I had parked on the street. It was an unfamiliar city, and I needed to get home to my family. Most of the dream involved walking around looking and looking, while racking my brain to remember any visual cues or landmarks from when I had parked my car earlier in the dream. Eventually, I got on my bike to ride home in the dark.
The feeling sense in the dream was of unease, confusion and a sense of messing up. There was an awareness of not being able to control the situation and not having the power to remedy what was wrong.
And it all makes sense given our current circumstances. I have no power to control how things unfold as we attempt to get the kids back to school. There’s a need to look uncertainty full-on and remain grounded, yet flexible, hopeful yet prepared for disappointment.
It feels like a martial art form. So, I come back to the breath. I feel my feet rooted on the floor and I allow my torso to expand and contract with the inhale and exhale.
I realize that all that is required is my presence, my willingness to be with each day as it arrives. There’s no need to grasp at a future that has yet to appear. There’s no need to perform the mental gymnastics of “what if.”
Today is cool and rainy. The sky is gray and the clouds seem to be hovering in place, as if they have nowhere else to be but here. I see a streak of bright yellow flash through my vision as a goldfinch darts back to the shelter of the big tree out my window.
It’s okay for me to just be here with the clouds and the goldfinch, to rest in the perfection of this moment. The fall is going to figure itself out regardless of any efforting on my part. And I have nowhere else to be but here.
What does "nowhere else but here" bring up for you? What happens if you let yourself settle into THIS moment? What do you feel yourself letting go of?
 | Jessica Curtis is a professional life coach who helps people cultivate intention and live from a place of meaning and authenticity. If you think you could benefit from working with Jessica or want to invite her to work with your group, reach out to start a conversation. |
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