Summer Solstice

One of the goals (such as they were) of my camper van trip was to be able to slow down enough to be able to experience the seasons as they turned a full cycle; to reconnect my soul to the rhythms of nature. While on the road, I was able to watch summer turn to fall turn to winter. I started to reground myself. But then, yeah, no. 

In the intervening years, I've tried to take time to observe the cycle turning, but was never able to catch the rhythm of life. Even after I retired, and was often out walking, there was something missing. I'd catch fragments of phrases, but the pulse of the music eluded me. Turns out, all I needed to do was to get a dog.

Sylvester needs to walk twice a day, which means, first thing each morning, before breakfast and coffee, whatever the weather, I'm out on the streets for a twenty to thirty minute stroll. And by stroll, I mean we suddenly jerk to a halt every so often so he can smell the smells.

I have to admit it's taken me some time to appreciate this approach to movement; at first it just annoyed me. When I go out by myself, I tend to keep a steady pace. My body goes into autopilot mode, my mind wanders far afield. I get a lot of thinking done, but don't necessarily pay a lot of attention to my physical surroundings. However, with the dog, the abrupt changes of pace yank my mind back out of itself and into awareness of the present moment. 

I feel the touch and the temperature of the air on my skin. I see the other dogs out walking with their people, notice the squirrels, the landscaping, the flowers, the trees. I hear the wind blowing, and the birds singing. I note when the quiet of the morning is disturbed by the noise of someone in their car, headed off to start their day. I smell the flowers, the morning damp; I catch an occasional whiff of sewer gas. 

Over the last six months, I have slowly become a bit more grounded; back in touch with the elusive pulse of the seasons. For a change, this year's summer solstice didn't take me by surprise; I didn't need the calendar to tell me it had arrived. This year, I watched it approach.

Thank you, Sylvester. Turns out, I needed you to come stay for a while just as badly as you needed a place to live while your other people find some balance in life.

Amazing how things work sometimes. I mean, I don't know if I believe in the Universe caring enough about the mental health of me and of the dog to nudge us together, but I can't not believe it either. 

Good Is.