...here we go with a traditional way to end the summer, but not your traditional story.
This summer was, by all accounts, an unusual one. June Gloom moved well into July, for the most part depriving us of the sun and the heat we had anticipated, and save for those heat waves in the 90s and beyond, missed. Plans for the beach and pool were sacrificed for more practical activities that didn't involve voluntarily freezing our little patooties - seriously, who wants to freeze in summer? Mid-60s weather was bad enough.
In many ways, the summer resembled my life. There were sunny days, but the months were mostly permeated by gray skies, a lingering fog that didn't allow me to see the horizon, and cold days that didn't warm the spirit. The hope of sunshine and clear skies dwindled as the days and the weeks went by. By and large, one day turned into the next without much break from the familiar gloom of winter. Mostly as an automaton I walked along the same paths, day in and day out, without an end in sight.
Summer was a time of introspection, perhaps because there was no distraction to be had. I traveled far an wide exploring the realities of my life, the voids in my heart, and the depth of the black holes that had started to appear in my soul. It wasn't a fun trip. I kept asking "are we there yet?" but as usual, "no" seemed to be the eternal answer.
Summer was a time of forced exploration. I had lost my map and needed to find my way back to the person I used to be. I was in my mini-version of Hotel California, where you can come in any time you want, but you can never leave.
It was a time of prayer. I searched for answers that didn't seem to come. I prayed for purpose, for an indication of the road to take, for inspiration to find the new me if the old one was never again to be. It was a time of sporadic hope, when the sunlight seemed to be able to break through the fog and give us bright blue skies. It was a time when I forced myself to believe that I would be found - at some point, I would be found.
Answers come in many ways. Interestingly enough, we seldom acknowledge the non-answer as an alternative to our question, quest, exploration. The non-answer is a sign of our prayers falling on deaf ears, when in reality it's an answer itself. It's the "no, we are not there yet." Perhaps specificity in the question yields more non-answers than the prayers we send when we cast a wide net.
My answer - my answers - came. Many times in the way of a non-answer. Other times in the way of a resounding "no." And each step of the way I searched deeper for that place within me that told me the sunshine would come.
The sunshine did come. Toward the very end of the summer, when we had almost given up on finding the heat, seeing the blue of the skies, and the vibrancy of the earth in the hottest time.
What did I do this summer? I found my strength, renewed purpose, my Lara 2.0. I found myself.
