Then why do I feel so discombobulated? Lost?
It’s already August. Weather report: some nights are unseasonably cool due to the winds coming across this big beautiful Lake Michigan.
It’s already August and the tomoatoes are ready for picking. I only have one plant but the branches are so full and heavy, tipping over with ripe red tomatoes. There’s nothing like a fresh picked tomato warm from the sun. Or a summer Tomato Tart baked with fresh picked tomatoes from your own garden.
It’s already August and I wonder “what happened to July?”. Did it just pass by like a high speed train on the way to August and I missed it? Didn’t I arrive at the platform on time? Maybe I stood on the wrong platform.
It’s already August. I’ve been retired since January 15th. I love it. Suddenly I have time to read a novel, take an afternoon nap, clean out the cupboards, work in the garden, bake cakes.
Then why do I feel so discombobulated? Lost?
It’s already August. Every day seems to be over before I even know it and as the sun goes down I ask myself, “Where did the day go?”. It seems like I don’t have purpose in my life right now. The days aren’t autmatically planned for me like they were when I had a family to take care of, a shop to manage, when I had responsibilities that needed to be done every single day. When I had deadlines.
It’s already August and if I listen carefully to my heart, it tells me the best thing to do when I don’t know what to do is… to do nothing. Except to honor this big, important time of transition into a new lifestyle. To look outside my window and notice that the flowers in my garden bloom at different times of the growing season. The apple tree takes time to fill up with apples.
Patience.
Everything has it’s own season. When the time is right, for me, I’ll get out of my head and into the act of creating something with my hands. It doesn’t have to be a big painting full of meaning and soul…that seems overwhelming to me right now…it can be a little card, a decorated envelope to send off to a friend, magazine images cut and pasted in my journal, baking a batch of muffins, writing as I listen to music. Letting go of expectations. Just being.
Instead of deadlines, which can be deadly, I can give myself permission to think of Fun Things To Do Today. I’m not lost. I’m just going down a different path. Getting on the train to nowhere can be an adventure.
It’s already August. And I’m feeling much better after writing about this. All those thoughts in my head seem to be clearer when I write them down. It’s like my own voice giving me the advice that I need. Me talking to me. Or maybe it’s God. Or my mother. I’m listening.
“You should be writing something from your life, from the depth of your soul. There is more in you than this”, he said, pointing to the newspaper story, “if you have the courage to write it.”
-Louis May Alcott, from the film adaptation of Little Women
