Non-Attachment and Acceptance
I have to admit it, this is not my favorite time of year. Kids return to school. There is a high school and a junior high within a mile radius of my house, so the traffic and noise levels are increasing. The daylight hours are getting shorter, and I love daylight. This year, like last year (and more years to come?), COVID is getting even more serious, and our reprieve from mask wearing and no social gathering seems to be ending.
As the weather gets cooler, I relish in being outside. I appreciate that I can keep my doors open and let the fresh air into the house. I like cool evenings. On September 7th, I was able to attend an outdoor Indigo Girls concert. I loved the Indigo Girls concert. Not just the music and the opportunity to sing and dance with performers that I love, but the ability to turn my face up to the sky and feel like I am a part of the blackness that goes on seemingly forever. Will I have the opportunity to be in that space in the late fall and winter?
I know the spring and summer will come back. They come back every year. I remember last spring, looking at my lilac bush and thinking, “This is it. This is the last time I will see these flowers until next year.” Next spring will happen. It has happened every year for longer than I can count.
I like the sound of my fountain. I like green leaves, wearing shorts, no need for jackets, and the ceiling fan running in my room.
What do I fear? Short days, grey skies, being cold all the time, and not being able to dine outside and gather outside. Sure, I can still walk and hike outside. I have already purchased my ski pass for 2021/2022, so I’ll be skiing. But there’s something about winter that just feels so dark and heavy to me.
I am grateful I live in Utah. Here I can ski and hike in the winter. I think without those items, I would be lost. I don’t know how much connection I will be getting though. Will restaurants close back up? Will my bookclub still want to meet in person when we can’t sit outside? Will yoga classes still happen indoors? Currently I don’t teach in a yoga studio. I teach outside and on zoom. I love being outside. Will my heart still be in the practice if I can only practice on zoom?
In some ways it just doesn’t matter. Winter is inevitable. I can go into it kicking and screaming, with my fingers clasped tightly around the outer edges of the end of summer, and winter will still arrive. I’m wondering if it’s COVID. Does the isolation and darkness of winter now remind me of COVID? I speak of COVID as if it is in the past. It really isn’t. It’s still very much here. We are still wearing masks. People are still struggling for their lives in hospitals. And outside the US? Things are much worse in many countries. So little of the entire world is vaccinated. We are a long way from “normal.”
I want to travel again. I recently saw a “life plan” I had written 5 years ago. On it I claimed I would be going to Tahiti once a year. Really? What if a pandemic shows up at my door? I know. Wanting to visit Tahiti yearly is a tall order and a major luxury. But really, I would take the Jersey Shore even. The season is over, but should I start planning for 2022? Something to look forward to like my lilac bush?
This experience isn’t the first time I’ve struggled to let go of summer. I remember struggling in years past. But this year the isolation of last year’s winter is still very fresh in my mind. I’m just not ready for it. The ability to travel may be lost again. The hope I had in early spring is becoming false hope. It’s a little harder to settle in to pumpkin spice lattes and the leaves changing color this year.
I’ve lived through my fair share of adversity and challenge, so why is this regularly consistent blip on the calendar of life bugging me so much? It’s really time to accept the winter as I have lived through 58 of them, and another one certainly isn’t going to kill me. Besides, would I love my lilac bush as much if it bloomed in the winter? Would homegrown tomatoes taste so good if I could get them in February? I don’t think I’m going to ever find that out. So it’s time to accept the inevitable and move on. In 140 days or so, those lilac blooms will be waiting for me.
