Summer Dreaming
A theme for July
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I had a night at the end of June where I couldn’t sleep, so I was sitting on my couch, petting my cat, and all of a sudden July’s theme arrived in my head.
Why take it so seriously? A voice asked. It’s summer, gosh darn it. Live a little.
Living a little, being spontaneous, free-spirited…this is not my strong suit. Not much bon vivanting here. I didn’t have a wild and crazy phase in my youth. I was the kid who was reading Virginia Woolf willingly on a Friday night. I couldn’t have found a party in college to save my life. On my twenty-first birthday I made pancakes and roasted squash, which says a lot about me. The most spontaneous thing I’ve done is adopt a cat.
Maybe some of this came from being praised for how “mature” I was as a kid. “Mature,” meant practical, responsible. Mature meant firmly grounded in the real world.
And yet July seems to say: let go and dream a bit. See what comes up.
So, July is for summer dreaming.
Here in the northern hemisphere this is the height of summer. We’re coming up on everything summer stereotypically is: hot, sticky, plentiful, bursting, bright, sweet.
The bounty is starting to fill my kitchen and garden. There’s at least one kind of local fruit on my counter. My fridge is one third greens. There are fresh flowers all over my house. Yesterday I was craving lemonade so I made some with local honey, plus added some salt to make it an electrolyte drink. Last week, cherry juice was splattered all over my kitchen and clothes. This morning, I sprayed myself whilst watering my garden and it was already so hot I didn’t mind. The heat is making it hard to think clearly sometimes though, and certainly making swift movement undesirable.
So I think that’s what July is asking me to do. Slow down and dream while the bounty is here. Dreaming, knowing the bounty won’t last forever and letting the dreams come in anyway, like waves on a beach.
I’m a miss-the-forest-for-the-trees sort of person. I’m a list maker. I get bogged down in the details. I prioritize practicality.
This month, I want to ask myself what is this bigger forest I’m writing about. And maybe for a little bit I need to pause from identifying every single tree along the way? Can I close my eyes and breathe in the deep scents of the forest, without judging?
I talk here on Peace of the Whole about living cyclically. But what is the peace? What is the whole?
Here are the big question I’m asking myself:
If I had my way and I could live as in accordance with the cycles as my heart desires what would that even look like?
If I could make the world live cyclically, what would happen?
How do we know what has to stay in the world of dreams and what—though perhaps it seems new and offbeat—actually needs to be brought into the world, even if the world doesn’t seem ready for it?
I find these questions kind of scary questions, actually. Indulgent too. But what is the height of summer if not the time to eat a pastry for breakfast, go swimming in a lake until your skin is shriveled, get ice cream before dinner, wear no shoes, run through the woods, get covered in scraps and bug bites, and then eat only tomatoes, cheese and bread for your meal?
At least, that’s my dream summer day. I don’t know what yours looks like.
I want to know what the ideal is I’m shooting for with these big, wild ideas I have about living a cyclical life. And I want to find peace knowing I will never get there. But if I don’t let myself sink into the full fantasy how will I know when I get 10%, 25%, 50% of the way there?
Is it going to be practical? Probably not! Or at least not to start with. And don’t worry—I’ll get serious again real quick.
For now though, will you dream a bit with me?
Love your windowsill. Love these questions. I feel too tired to answer, but inspired to sit with them as I try to settle from the frenetic buzzy energy of July.