Summer solstice musings 🌻
Gratitude, turning 30, aging, yada yada.
Hello and happy summer solstice to you.
It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? Nearly six months to be exact. In fact, the last time I wrote here was just days after the winter solstice. I didn’t intend to step away for that long, but well, the ole instincts were telling me to pause, and I listened. It was nice.
In true second breakfast fashion, I’m currently sipping some very hot black coffee, munching on a toasted cheddar potato biscuit I picked up from one of my favorite neighborhood bakers, and watching the early morning sun dance across the trees outside. The air is refreshingly cool—as it always is in June in the PNW—and it’s whispering through the open windows as I sit here snuggled in an old sweatshirt. Everything outside is, of course, in full bloom, and the air smells delicious. The scents of cut grass, native honeysuckle, sun-soaked roses, and newborn lavender blooms seem to hit my nose no matter where I go.
There’s so much abundance this time of year, and it’s always such a delightful surprise when summer comes around again. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the way the seasons turn, and I’m probably definitely bugging the people around me with repeated exclamations of “Have you seen/smelled/heard [insert something in nature I’m delighted by]?” I can’t help it. Not that I want to. One of the things I love most about myself is that I’m good at noticing and I’m good at practicing gratitude when whatever I notice elicits joy or awe or understanding. Much of my enthusiasm about life comes from that pairing, especially when I get to share those moments with others.
This gratitude is not futile; it is, for me, a survival mechanism. It keeps me grounded and even hopeful, a necessary counteraction to the fury and heartbreak I feel when reading news story after news story about human-engineered calamities so dire that history has already frowned on us. And knowing that some people will defend said actions in perpetuity makes it hard not to want to pull out your hair, literally and metaphorically.
So anyway, roses.
In February, I turned 30. I spent it doing one of my favorite things: exploring somewhere new—in this case, Japan.
On the one hand, I feel like I’ve been in my thirties for years. I’m an old soul. (My partner Aaron teases me for carrying Mounds and York peppermint patties in my purse.) On the other, I still feel like I’m twenty-three. And then there are the days where I could’ve sworn I was eleven not that long ago. I’ve always been fascinated by the difference between the age we are and the age we feel.
One thing is for certain: You won’t hear me complaining about getting older (at least not yet). Getting to spend another year in this life is a such a gift, and I never want to take it for granted. I selfishly hope I get to live healthily into my 80s or longer—mentally sharp with legs that can still carry me on all sorts of adventures, cackling with my loved ones, drinking black coffee every morning, and delighting in a plate of crackly French fries here and there, ideally at different cafes around the world. Just putting that out into the ether. I guess I better start doing more strength training. And brain puzzles. Because I think I’d be a hoot as an old lady.
There are two things I love about aging:
You get to know yourself better. That helps for a whole host of reasons. You become more focused on what and whom you want in your life—and adjusting accordingly. Those adjustments feel ~wonderful~!
You care less about what other people think. Don’t get me wrong: I still care (too much) sometimes—I am actively unlearning people pleasing—but I put less credence on other people’s opinions about my choices now than I did even a few years ago. And the converse is true, too: I make a conscious effort not to judge people for their choices, as long as they’re not harming others in the process. Easier said than done, of course.
What do you love—or have learned to love—about aging? (However you define “aging.”) I always appreciate hearing from you.
Wishing you Northern Hemispherers a very happy start to your summer!
Until next time,
Elizabeth