It is something when the summer lulls... First, the sun sets earlier. It is tired from burning through countless long, hot days. Then, the stars shine through wisps of clouds, and you realize the night air is slightly cooler than yesterday. Next, you gaze at the waxing gibbous moon. It shines light on the dry, gold dirt, and you see it is not yet time for new growth. We are between planting seasons, and like the crops that sustain us, we too are waiting for the right time to start anew.
In the still end of August, we are forced by the waning summer into stagnancy. This is when we see that which must wither. When we shed layers and pieces, jobs and relationships, there is sadness. No matter how much lighter we will become, no matter how positive we know this change will be, we still must grieve.
We mourn who we thought were, to make space for who we truly are to grow. Transitions are a series of necessary deaths, and death is a dense friend of ours. Letting go of an old version of ourselves is hard, especially if we liked that person. We do not always know who we are getting next.
Through this time we must wait with patience and hope, because everything is a necessary piece in the path. We can’t spring forward with too much force. If we jump forward before the physical, third-dimensional world catches up to our progress, then we are destined to be like energetic boomerangs. So, we wait in with the hope that our heart-lights will carry us through growth, like the moving moon, towards full—Fall and rise.