Tag: seasons

To Be Present

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August is on the downward slope and September will be here before we know it. I’ve seen any number of memes about the pull to the coziness of fall–hoodies, warm beverages, nestling under blankets amidst the soft glow of low lamps when darker evenings appear. Kids are going back to school; parents are mixed with relief and grief. It’s such a challenge not to plan, be forward thinking, eye always on the future, but every season is rich unto itself.

Last night I took the fixings for a tarte a la moutarde to my cousin’s and her family. Now don’t tune out yet. Yes a “mustard tart” sounds kind of gross and a little insane, but it is probably one of the most exquisite summer dishes I have ever made. Dijon, gruyere, herbes de Provence, salt, pepper, and fresh garden tomatoes sliced up all on a crust with the edges rolled up. The combination of flavors is heady. As my good friend Holly would say–“restaurant quality.” The time at table with their family, my family, was so good.

In conversation with my cousin, we discussed “being present” versus “flow.” As introverts who value solitude, I could relate to her struggle with longing for flow–that place where we step outside of chronic consciousness into body, creation, and spirit (best I can do) and be physically, mentally, emotionally attuned to this moment in time. Many of these moments in time are brutal for reasons stemming from the personal to the collective. Some of them are boring and tedious. Some of them break our hearts. Bryan talked a lot about the importance of “being here now.” It takes discipline and effort. I find all the easily available tools of dissociation right at my fingertips. I’m not immune. But dissociation is neither presence nor flow.

What can I conclude? To continue to hunt for the joy nuggets of the moment and savor them in real time like we did those tarts last night–ripening tomatoes, produce to share, flowers in glorious reveal, eye contact with a friend over a bawdy joke, phone calls and texts from nieces and nephews, puppies, saying I love you–these help keep us grounded in the right now in ways that comfort our hearts.

Pumpkin spice, cozy blankets, and dark evenings will come soon enough and they will be worthy of savoring, too. Right now, every hot, dusty moment of August and the bucketloads of tomatoes will be plenty of joy unto itself.

[If you like what you read and want to say thank you with gifting me a coffee… 🙂 …you’re welcome to do so here: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1]

Gratitude Challenge Day 17: Seasons

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I kind of wish the topic was seasonings. That’d be more interesting, but alas, here we are. Really, it feels pretty duplicative with “time,” “weather,” and “change,” which I’ve already done, but I’ll do my best to differentiate.

Walla Walla gets all four seasons and for that I’m mostly glad. I really like spring, most of summer, and the first 3/4 of fall. Winter is rough. We’ve been over this. I won’t continue to beat this dead horse, even though that’s what winter in Walla Walla can smell like, but no, I’m focusing on gratitude and seasons. FOCUS, Becci, FOCUS! I do like the change of seasons and what each has to offer–even winter when I come inside and cozy up, reading, baking, and planning the garden. It’s not all bad, truly.

I also appreciate the more metaphorical notion of seasons. We have periods of our lives that are a certain way, but they don’t last, and this is good. This can be heartbreaking, relief-giving, sometimes both, even. I could quote Solomon, but I’ll let The Byrds do it instead…

“…and a time to dance…”

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There’s a passage in Ecclesiastes I’m particularly fond of. It appeals to both my Adventist upbringing and my unintended pagan tendencies. Seasons mark our calendars and our lives, each one in its own time. There truly is a time for everything–“a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance…”

Last night was absolutely a time to dance and I experienced a really interesting first–baby’s first rave. Yes, even here in itty bitty Wally World there are raves. Rave culture is a fascinating subculture with glow-in-the-dark bracelets and glitter and heavy bass and so much dancing. There are definitely those who participate in “supplements,” as a good buddy of mine described, in order to lower inhibitions and enhance other sensations, but honestly, for me, plenty of water, spirit, and enthusiasm and I was good to go. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time. It is an incredibly vulnerable thing to allow oneself to lay things down for a moment long enough to play, just be, and to get temporarily lost in a chest-vibrating-bass beat.

It certainly didn’t hurt to have the coolest gay guy in the place pay my dancing and exuberance high compliments. And even more fun to go with a friend who made the experience for this stranger in a strange land to be welcomed and included in such a hospitable way. I will go again because what absolute fun. But I’ll probably wait until my left hip heals a little first. Ha!