The days are longer with mornings starting early and evenings stretching out. It's late May, so we're still a few weeks away from the longest day of the year in this hemisphere. I can feel the energy building all around me. From the nests full of fledglings to the spiders with webs filling up with meals. From the honeysuckle blooming to the leaves still unfurling on the sycamores. Light. We all need light. With the turning of the seasons and the rhythms of the cycles that go along with the seasons, there is always growth. Growth does not stop even with the waning of the light. And in this season, in these cycles, growth is in full swing. Yet, death is always present and is not in and of itself a darkness. It is an important piece of the weaving that is our energetic existence. It is the pause between one strand of the weaving and the next. It is the lull between the exhalation and the inhalation. It is an arc of the circle. Even in this season of growth, the cycles continue with life, death, and rebirth, small circles within the bigger ones.
In this season, I find that I have to remind myself to breathe and move at my own pace, not to get lost in the upswing of the light. Sometimes my pace is a fast dance and sometimes it's just breathing. Tuning into my own rhythms allows me to receive from the elements and the life flow that which is most beneficial for me. If I'm not grounded, centered, and moving at my own pace, opening to the support of the season will not be a smooth connection. It can actually be a jarring experience. Knowing my song, allows me to find those songs that harmonize with me, rather than those that make it even harder for me to sing my song. There are birds all around singing their songs, and they inspire me to find my own song each day. It is an everyday practice, finding my song. And my morning walks give me the space for that practice. I focus on the vibrations that surround me and ripple into me. And I reach deep inside for my song and I sing the day in as I walk toward the solstice.