By: Rebecca Liston
It’s been said that August is the “Sunday of Summer” and boy, do I feel that this year more than perhaps any other. This desire to sink into the month and savour it in a way that can only be described as “Sunday-ish.” To rest, yes, but even more so, to let August fill my bones.
The warm days and cooler nights. The feel of the warm water of the pool as I swim in the morning and mist rises from the surface. The taste of peaches – oh, peaches, where have you been all my life? The change of the birdsongs and the subtle shift of the sound of the wind through the leaves.
I am filling my cup with August.
Even as I work. Even as I help my 80-year-old mother move from her condo of 20 years. Even as we begin planning and creating for Q4. Even as I wash the dishes, fold the laundry, and tidy the endless number of cups that contain half-drank concoctions my kids have dreamed up.
August is seeping into my bones.
And with it comes The Exhale. The dropping of my shoulders. The loosening of my jaw. The softness in my belly. The quiet stillness in my brain.
I breathe in August, this Sunday of Summer, and know that this, right here, right now, is about as perfect as perfect could be. That no matter what swirls around me, what chaos abounds, I am safe and I am loved in August.
Rebecca Liston is cofounder and business intuitive at Las Peregrinas, a creative and consulting agency. She specializes in anchoring folks in a clear-eyed understanding of which path is theirs for the taking. She’s got one foot in the land of the subtle and unseen, and the other foot firmly planted in the land of ruthless pragmatism. Oh, and she swears like a sailor, which makes us love her more.
Get letters like this one, plus updates, insights, and invitations, delivered right to your inbox every week. Here’s the sign-up.