This morning I asked people on my Facebook page what their summer’s story was in 2018.
I always enjoy asking open ended questions then listening to what people say in response. (Although nobody responded so feel free to head over there and add your summer story – or leave a comment.) It’s a fun little get to know you better exercise. In this case, I really had to take a step back and think, “wait a minute – what’s my summer’s story?”
If I’m honest, my 2018 summer story is a lesson in diligence and intention. Or what happens when you loosen the grip on those two things. I spent a lot of time this summer laying low. It wasn’t like I was doing nothing, but I was actively not doing something.
Does that make sense?
I don’t want to come across as saying that my summer wasn’t enjoyable and meaningful to me. It was both, but it was both because I committed to very little and I delivered on those and only those commitments. I wanted to read and I read. I wanted to garden and I did that, too. I am, at my core, inherently reclusive. I love spending time alone. I am also a severe introvert who does a 9-to-5 job suited to an enthusiastic extrovert. By the end of a given week, my psychic energy is sapped. If I don’t make conscious efforts to battle that, then I indulge my desire to stay calm, stay quiet and stay home. And that was the story of this summer for me. I enjoyed it immensely, but I feel a little wistful, like I have nothing to show for it.
The lesson? It’s good for me to do nothing, but I should remain mindful about my doing nothing-ness. If I lose touch if that, then the days just blend together and there’s no way to distinguish them.
Going into the fall, I can already feel my energy rising and my enthusiasm growing. I’ll definitely have a story or two by the time we’re through the next season.
What was the story of your summer this year? Are you sad that the season’s coming to an end or happy for the (ceremonial) arrival of fall?