August in Austin breaks cool across skin blushing from lounging poolside in July.
I walk into the start of the month in a pocket of the city that enchants me. Two old labs, a king and a queen, leisurely stroll down neighborhood streets that exude the eclectic charm that is Austin, or at the least an energy that I associate with authentic Austin: the vibe of liberated creativity, quirky quaintness, a culture of friendly bohemian and live-and-let-live characters.
I breathe easier here, in this part of the city, under this brighter blue sky. There’s an exhalation cuing a sigh of relief for locating, for a heartbeat of a week or two, a magic that I set my life on fire for and pressed through states and a year of constant iterations to be in the presence of, to pause and revel in.
I enjoy these morning walks with the majestic canines. There is a dignified beauty, a puppy-like innocence, in these honey-moving royals that catches me in wonder and delight.
Keep catching me in wonder and delight.
Keep appreciation for this August life in Austin refreshed in my restoring and seeking heart.
A prayer to a sky that is breathing easier, too. A slight shift, a barely detectable lessening in the sticky heat of a Texas summer, and this slither of change grants the release of breath, busyness, a stress accumulating from an epic July tightly regimented so I could show up in mindfulness and joy to the yeses I wholeheartedly agreed to and felt a thrill to commit to.
So when August arrives and a crispness perfumes the air, there’s also an exhaustion that calls from my bones and sweeps all efforts, energies, exertions back into an inner refuge, an inner refuge I completely relax into because my temporary home (the perks of housesitting) feels safe for the let-down.
I marvel at the timing of the let-down. The slowing down of the schedule delivering me into this quiet tucked away home, to rooms with lounge-luscious couches and windows revealing trees, and dogs who are present, peaceful, undemanding and protective.
This is my hammock of rest, and I sway in gentle observation of contemplations. In a creation of a pause I hear the questions rumbling about purpose, service, the utilization of unique talents, a craving for clarity, but I am clear on not being clear, and I am in a state of listening, questing, questioning.
August in Austin arrives right in the cosmic swirling of a Mercury in Retrograde. August in Austin arrives and I feel a tiredness that is remedied only through retreat, and the retreat aligns with a planetary play of energies that provokes all suppressed, whispering narratives to emerge to the front of consciousness.
A review. A reflection. A revamp on unfinished projects to tidy up and complete the task.
So I sit in stillness, in absolute quiet at a kitchen table with the labs at my feet rising to meet emails and crack through procrastination, because self-care translates to ensuring well-being and taking responsibility, and satisfying the inner adult emboldens self-assuredness, I trust that I will take care of my life, of myself. And here, in tune with Mercury Retrograde and its invitation to sit back, take note, re-organize, I take care of my tech space, my computer’s head space, by deleting folders and trashing old documents, and here I find an online journal written by a twenty-year-old self.
She is in pain. She is heartbroken, overwhelmed, outraged, and trying.
She is striving for her family, friends, herself.
I read over words long forgotten, flickering sleeping feelings into vivid life.
I am astonished by her. Her writing, her fears, her issues which are my current issues. Eight years later and I am still in flux with the same concerns – purpose, service, the balance of busyness and rest, the brave embracing of creativity.
This surprise reflection reveals real waves of compassion.
I read her words, I feel her pain, and I let myself feel her pain. I can hold her in tender loving-kindness without analyzing, blaming, becoming caught in the pastel colored fog of the past. This reflection shows the work being done, the work of rewriting the mental narratives, the work of forging new neural pathways and hoping they become tattoos integrated into quicker to access loving responses.
I hold her and I say that there will be an August in Austin, where she’ll walk lovable labs, and have improv rehearsals and yoga classes for tweens and seniors, who are vibrant teachers, and a blog to pour heart-rinsed pieces into, and there will be friends who are not takers, but are givers (an aha line from Queenie in “Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them”) and there will be ease, and there will be clarity, and the clarity is in the being present on the morning meanderings with the labs.
August in Austin arrives and so do the spirited friends who are my community, my support system, my loves. And they share their stories too of a busy July and there’s struggle in their narratives, too, and I can be there in the pain because I’ve finally learned how to sit with my own pain.
August in Austin arrives with softer mornings and I breathe easier in the review, the reflection, the revamp, the renewal that manifests as the mischievous and necessary workings of Mercury Retrograde. I move thankfully in a summer spell that instructs to be awake, to have faith, and stay open and listening to a beginning again that is always here, ready to be seen with fresh eyes, a clearer heart, a desiring to be still, vibrantly alive, and lifted up into a long exhalation of heat giving away to gentler air.