Endless Summer

There’s a languidness in the air, an expansiveness.  August, the pause between the fast pace of spring and early summer, yet before the rush of preparations and transitions that is autumn.  Nature is quieter; the birds have stopped their morning chorus, it can seem as if there has been a collective downing of tools and heading off for the summer holidays.  A brief look outside shows a gentle running to seed, honeyed yellow grasses, stems flopped over; a sense of the overgrown, of slight abandonment.  The first harvest, Lammas or Loaf Mass, has passed at the start of the month.  Berries and fruits are ripening in the hedgerows and beginning to change colour; a slow burnishing of leaves, with rose petals giving way to rosehips.  Weather can be surprisingly unsettled, whilst we may hope for endless sunshine and endless summer of rose-tinted memory of long-ago summer holidays.

And yet, so often when you have children yourself, the summer holidays can be everything other than a holiday.  With caring responsibilities, it can feel just like any other day – endless ground-hog day.  Sometimes it can feel harder with heightened expectations and need for a break that can be even further from grasp.  Juxtapose this with social media and all around you where everyone else seems to be on some glowing family trip in the sun.  It is easy to think that everyone is out there but us.  At some point during every summer ‘holiday’ I find myself reversing and paraphrasing the Albert Camus quote  ‘in the midst of summer I found there was, within me, an invincible winter’.  I have reached this point recently and have been looking for ways to lighten the load, bring a little sunshine in and find ways to savour the last few drops of summer in any way I can access.

Considering how close I live to the sea it can be incredibly hard to get there, particularly at this time of the year when it can be busy and my family is not a fan of crowds (this is a massive understatement!) preferring the safety of home.  It is hard for me to go off on my own without a lot of planning. 

Early one morning though, I manage the task and it is so worth the effort it took to get here.  I sit on a rock facing the water, take off my sandals and take in the gloriousness of the gently moving water in the rising sun.  A maritime meditation, if you will. The words of Cathy Rentzenbrink come to me from her book How to Feel Better: a guide to navigating the ebb and flow of life, “the more you sit with dark emotions, the more you can access joy.” I take a moment to honour this ‘dark harvest’, to stare the difficult feelings I have been gathering in the face: the disappointment, the rage, the frustration.  I feel their weight. Then rising, I cast them off like stones skimming into the sea.  I am slightly embarrassed to report that I roared at the sea too, but it did release the difficult feelings, shaking it off like a dog coming out of the water.  As I left the water’s edge, the ground felt washed a little clearer.

The first fruits appearance and the gathering of the first harvest are a great time to cultivate a sense of gratitude.  Gratitude is the best antidote I know of for counteracting adverse conditions and thoughts.  Not the forced thank you letter writing kind of my childhood gratitude, but the simple stock taking of what we already have; that which we’d be devastated to lose. It is so easy to see all the things we don’t have, especially when comparing ourselves to all the Instagram images; this way we can look at all we do already have. Even on the most difficult of days, though it may take some effort, I can always find good things to note, no matter how small, very often it is the things that sustain me – clean water, things to eat, my garden, my dog. Something genuine and heartfelt that can bubble up and grow if I tend to it.  When referring to gratitude, Ian Seddons Heginsworth, environmental art therapist, says, “Once it has taken hold it is the best of all cures for negativity because a grateful heart may be bothered by a negative mind but it will not be ruled by it.”

Now I have taken inventory, I can see clearly what I have in my cupboard.  It is not as bare as I had previously thought – but it is depleted and there is room for more! Time to restock, gather more good things.  Attending to small positive moments, that we may normally overlook, can create a tipping point when added together, with a consequential shift in how we feel.  All those slivers and glimmers add up, ‘look after the pennies and the pounds look after themselves’ as my grandmother used to tell me (though that was literally about money).  It is easier to access this lighter side of life when our bodies are feeling more relaxed.  Being by water can help, any body of water - sea, river, lake, pond, stream.  Here our brains don’t need to work to process the simple views; an evolutionary aid to survival. Play can also aid this, as adults we can forget the power of play, of doing something with curiosity and openness, for no purpose as such.  The month of august can give us permission to play, access some lightness and fun, which in turn can lead to a welcome change in perspective.

Bringing home a token from waterside wanderings can extend the trip, collected as reminders which can trigger good memories and reconnect the heart with that event, feathers, stones, shells and such like. Some people see them as ‘talismans’ to remember the light against dark. I like to leave a whispered ‘thank you’ at the place as a gift in return, this can just be a swirl made in the water, a pattern in the sand, a stone tower, or a simple ‘mandala’ shaped of leaves, shells or other natural objects.

Invitations:

·      Using a ‘Still Spot’ by a body of water using all your senses to connect to your surroundings.  Or, at home, in a safe, cosy corner, listen to water music, a meditation or visualisation – lots of free ones on Insight Timer App, I use By the Ocean with Cello and Guitar by The Light Meeting or Lake Meditation Music by Andy Hobson. Helping to access a more playful energy or feel more relaxed.

·      Writing prompts – if you feel like writing it out - what am I grateful for, however big or small, and how do they make me feel? Or you could explore what does play mean to me? Or remembering a time you played and it felt good.

·      Sketching suggestions – simple pencil and paper drawings: blackberries ripening, butterflies on buddleia, shells or pebbles from the beach, maybe a token you have brought back with you.

·      Sculpting with clay or salt dough (easy to make with equal parts salt and flour plus a little water to bind, can add colour or natural objects to it, plenty of recipes online).

·      Making simple bread, which fits well with harvest time, again plenty of recipes online, kneading dough can be therapeutic and you also have something to eat at the end. I use an adapted Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall magic dough recipe of: 250g strong flour, 250g plain flour, 1 tbsp oil, pinch salt, a sachet of quick yeast, mixed together and kneaded for 10 minutes. This can be flatbreads, rolls, pizza etc. Or you can add seeds, olives, herbs to the mix, experiment if you like.

·      Creating a simple ‘mandala’ style picture with naturally found objects, these are repeating patterns originally from India found in Buddhist art. This is about the process not the product and to enjoy playing with the materials. 

Until next month.

Clare

xx

I’d love to hear from you, do get in touch with your thoughts or comments and please share this if you know someone who may appreciate it. Cross-posted @YourTime4aChange