June is for noticing
Grind culture, fireflies and taking a collective pause
One of my favorite spiritual practices as of late has been noticing.
Paying attention. Taking note. Becoming aware of what’s going on within you and around you in any given moment.
This can sound really…navel-gazey. But that’s not the point. The point isn’t to be self-absorbed. The point is to be self-aware and to turn up the volume on the whispers and nudges of your soul.
It’s not about fixing anything, at least not right away. It is about making room to hear your inner wisdom. Why? So that as you are navigating your relationship with yourself, with the folks you love and with the work you do in the world, you’re able to show up authentically.
A great deal of the anxiety many of us feel in modern life is due to how noisy it is. It’s just so loud. There are a million opinions on everything from the food you eat to the car you drive to the person you should vote for to how you should raise your kids.
Not only is there the manufactured pressure we feel from our digital spaces, but there’s the actual pressure we feel to perform at work, to be good partners and spouses, to be present parents, to save for retirement, to change the world, etc.
It’s a lot. And it’s exhausting.
I’ve been reading Rest is Resistance by Tricia Hersey, which is all about the ways grind culture and the exploitative nature of oppressive systems collude to exhaust us, to extract from us and to keep us distracted and powerless.
Noticing is an onramp to undermining grind culture.
Noticing is a profound act of reclaiming your attention and spiritual energy.
It is empowering to notice, and to eventually amplify, the still small voice within you.
The summer season supports us in this. The rhythms of the school year create a sort of collective pause for us as a society. I don’t have children, but I still feel the “summer is here!” spirit in the air. It’s a time for fun, for play, and for connection with both our inner children and the actual children in our lives.
A collective pause is an invitation to notice what in our lives simply isn’t working any more.
A collective pause is an invitation to remember what brings us joy.
A collective pause creates room to linger and to let the long days of summer remind us that there really is no rush.
A couple of nights ago, fireflies emerged all over Cedar Wilde, which is the one-acre place my husband Alex and I call home. Something about southern summers evokes deeply felt memories of being known and held by the natural world. The fireflies, the whippoorwills, the dusty periwinkle-blue sky at dusk, the full moon rising over the pine-tree line, and even the dang mosquitoes remind us of not only where we are but who we are.
And the practice of noticing helps me to receive the gift of living my particular life.
I imagine that such a practice might do the same for you. And if in your noticing, you realize that you’re leading a life that isn’t aligned with the truest story of your soul, then you get to be curious about that and to see what Spirit has in store for you.
June is for noticing. As you pause to pay attention to what’s stirring within you and around you, what do see? What do you hear?
Parker Palmer, one of my favorite authors, says that the soul is like a deer in the woods. It’s easily spooked and will take off quickly if you approach it with too many demands or too much noise.
So pause when you can. Breathe deeply. If you’re able to make time, wait. Listen. Notice. May you be blessed and empowered by what you see and hear from within.
Catch you here next week, Beloveds!
Bethaney