It feels nice to be writing again after taking an unexpected break this summer. There was so much that I could have written about: my birthday weekend, getting older, travelling home, swimming with seals and summertime therapy reflections.
But whenever I would sit down to write, I kept coming up against the pressing realization of:
I am sad,
I am sad,
I am sad.
This feeling was present with me for the majority of the summer. Work slowed down. I got a break. I let out a deep exhale, and all of the grief and sadness that I didn’t have time for in busier months escaped and demanded to be felt.
At the beginning of August, my friend took me to Iona Beach to watch a glowy sunset and breathtaking moonrise. As the full moon ascended from the horizon, they turned to me and asked me what I wanted to let go of. I considered my answer and clarity washed over me.
I didn’t want to let go of the sadness. It was here to teach me something. It had a message for me and I needed to stop and listen to it.
I allowed myself to sit in sadness, creating a sanctuary for my feelings through personal writing and dance and crying and art and therapy and hugs and home. My community surrounded and held me. I envisioned myself like a nurse log - a fallen branch that splintered and cracked off the main tree, only to create new life on the forest floor. I knew beautiful things could grow from this experience.
And a few days ago, on the second full moon of August, I hosted a vision boarding workshop, asking again: “What do you want to let go of?” and “What do you want to invite in?”.
Taking the break to truly feel everything I needed to feel this summer gave me so much space to reflect on what practices I want to nurture in the fall.
I know I want to keep showing up wholly imperfect. I want to keep figuring things out as I go, letting my feelings speak to me and guide me. I know that I want beauty in my life. I don't want to turn away from hard experiences, because I know now that they can bring beauty and joy and clarity.
On this September day, as the air turns crisp, and the dew sticks to the grass, I feel a renewed sense of self. Can you feel it too? The feeling of possibility that September brings?