The Threshold of Summer’s End

As the sun still shines bright and hot, the telltale signs of the season change are increasingly present. The air quality shifts, the light changes… the temperature drops and morning dew arrives. This moment - this threshold of summer’s end - is such a strange place to hang out.

I used to grieve at this moment, at this point of transition. I then learnt to enjoy and embrace the changes and step into the autumn (or fall) more easily, and this year it is different again. After weeks of uninterrupted sunshine, long days and hot nights I am not ready to let that go. Not ready to let go of the heat, the intensity, the possibility and wonder of so much light, so much openness and the illumination of the sun.

Was it too much?
For many it has been too much, I’ve certainly had moments of that, where the heat and lack of water was just too much for the task or activity at hand. But I adapted. I embraced and I deeply enjoyed the dry, warm mornings to commune with nature. To write and to sink into listening that is beyond the ears, that includes my whole being. To witness and sense and feel nature around me, within me and how there is in fact no space or difference when I pay close enough attention.

I found a pattern of evening yoga in the garden, under a star lit sky that brought enough coolness after sundown to allow me to really feel and move my body with such presence and celebration. To let the warmth and the heat move through and be received by my body, to allow a softening and opening that was palpable in my intuitive yoga flow. That only happens when it is warm and when the body is truly warm: energy flows easily and we can feel ourselves differently.

Softness and openness
And the softness and openness is what I begin to miss most. The wide skies, blue and inviting. Hours outside without needing jumpers, coats or shoes… just present and alive to life. Starry skies revealing the wonders of the universe and the vastness of our belonging, and the dark skies bringing refuge from the intense heat of the sun.

I might even miss the liminal space of tiredness from such poor sleep in the heat. That blending and meeting of the dreaming and awake, or different levels and awareness of reality that blurred the edges. That allowed days to flow with a whole new sense of living, a different pace and awareness that fed me - that fed my life and my hopes and dreams.

Did it even happen…?
And as I lie writing this in the late summer sun, still hot and vital yet the coolness touching the edges (and the forecast now bringing more cloud and rain) I wonder - did it ever happen. Did this intense heat actually stay so long? The hot nights and windless days, not a cloud in the sky? We are so used to cloud, and rain… and the changeable weather. It is so familiar. Will we slip into it like a comfy jumper and forget what was? Forget what we experienced?

I’m not ready to. Something about the summer, and extra heat this year and the timelessness and surrender still remain. And those are the words… timeless and surrender.

To slip into the spaces between everything else. To find the non doing and to surrender so fully that we simply merge into the present, into the moment right in front of us. To live from the edge of presence, to dance with life from a different place… alert to sensations, aware of needs in a whole new way. Tending to body, mind and spirit from a more immediate and necessary place. Not later, or one day, right now. The body needed coolness, shade, water… the mind needed rest or a reprieve; spirit needed space to play and to breathe - to meet life in its most glorious encounter that became possible in this in-between space.

Needing to listen, to respond, to care and to love. To love ourselves and to meet ourselves with love. Even if that was hiding from the sun and waiting out the heat.

Carrying forward
So as I ponder, as I wonder and contemplate, I consider - how can this quality of being continue? Yes, the weather, the season and the interactions will change. The environment will change and opportunities, light levels, clothing all change, but I too am changed… and what will stay the same?

What can I carry forward? A deep softness? A surrender? A quality of awareness of the body in relation to nature. A sea of possibility, an openness to life and to what can be. A love and care for the body? Appreciation and wonder?

What will you carry forward?

For me, it is that gentle heart having space to arrive into a softened body. The play of the elements upon and within the body. The way nature is increasingly no longer outside myself but deeply inside my whole being. How sunshine strips away layers of guarding and layers of holding revealing a softened self that interacts with myself and the world.

Grieving and letting go
And no wonder I don’t want to let this go. Why would I? So I intend for myself to feel into how to allow more of this all. Muddy walks, late night conversations and candlelit dinners. Starry skies and big coats and scarves. Fires and friends. Laughter and beauty and all that truly living and true friendship brings. Some of this is not possible in summer. So as the season turns and as we stand at this threshold I allow myself to ever-so gently sense all the wonder that is to come. To grieve what has been and to let go slowly until it naturally lets go of me.

And if you are grieving like me, no matter how much we love other seasons, honour the threshold, the transition and all that teaches too. Be present to it and all that is shown and revealed.

Lean in…
And then lean fully into the next season when it arrives. The incredible depth and new beauty of nature’s autumnal clothing, splendid and wonderful in every way. She calls me. She calls me out in autumn, with the smell of the damp leaves and moss, the colours and changing light. I know it and part of me remembers it. But right now I’m going to stay exactly as I am, surrendered and softened and bathed in magnificent sunshine. And I am so so grateful for it all.