Breathing Out

Solstice has come and gone, with that heady rush and energy that build and builds in the days beforehand. The stillness, the dusk and light and dusk and light of that peak pause, where breath is held, eyes wide, hands stretched out into the infinite space that seems to surround us at midsummer. A light that never turns to night. A feeling of endless possibility. Sometimes it feels too much, even. But wonderful, wonderful.

Now, a few weeks later, that tightness is loosening. That breath held cooped up in lungs that felt too small at the time is exhaled. We soften, slow a little, and relax into the colours of summer proper. The leaves lose their shine and become more matte, more muted. Grass and crops turn yellow gold. The insects living alongside us buzz busily into the dusk.

I’ve had a break from writing, to concentrate on finishing my PhD, to head my health in a better direction, and to just process the last few years. It’s been beneficial to step back from here for a while, leaving the cobwebs to gather and words to settle and fade. But in all things, as always, the tide ebbs and flows. I feel the pull back here once more. In the slow times over winter, I had time to think. To stop pushing and rushing.

So, I extended my studies by a year to give myself time to breathe. In creating space by stepping back from here, I filled that gap with more busy-ness that now, in this pause-time, I realise wasn’t for me at all. So, once more we begin. I call for endless learning, the embracing of curiosity, and the inspiration of the seasons. It’s ok to wander, to try, to hold close and let go. Seasons fill with energy, then change. It all repeats. Things come and go, and it’s all ok. As summer stretches out, languid and light, I hear its call. Wander on, to that midnight light on the horizon and the stretching of the dawn.