Pause

Photo by the author, Yachats, Oregon

I’ve been thinking about harvest, in this late summer moment. How the natural world uses a strategy of abundance to ensure its continuity. How the deep heat, the breeze, the bleached grass signal a time in which so many plants are finishing their season and providing so much for us. It makes me want to spend weeks just stocking up: gathering seeds from plants, canning tomatoes, making and freezing pesto, picking fruit and making preserves.

I started this newsletter in June, and now I’m anticipating the season turning. There are leaves on the ground in my backyard—just a few each morning. In the afternoons, I notice the light slants a little more harshly each day. Though it’s still going up to 97 degrees today, there’s that dissonance between how the heat feels and what the light portends.

I took a few days last week to focus on tasks and chores I’ve been putting off. And then I took a few days at the ocean to cool off and pause. So today’s post is about pausing, and what happens when we take that time.

What can you savor, in the moment of summer’s ending? What are the things you wanted to read over the summer, but haven’t yet? Have you rested, and cared for yourself? Have you had idle time, to let your mind drift? Is there something you promised yourself you’d do (or not do) this summer, but keep telling yourself now isn’t the time? What if you took that time? What if you turned your energy toward yourself, poured it over you like it wasn’t going to run out?

A lot of what I write about in this newsletter is how ideas of scarcity, hierarchy, and dominance are impacting us, both individually and collectively. My goal is to make these ideas, and the structures that uphold them, visible. I want to talk with you about them, interrogate them, undermine them, transform them.

Harvest gives the lie to scarcity. The natural world thrives on interconnectedness and communication; it uses multiple strategies to ensure its ends are achieved. It is not inevitable that we will continue to dominate and oppress; that violence will continue to spill from generation to generation; that rights will continue to be stripped away; that the lights are going out.

I know this because when I pay attention to the natural world, it schools me. And I know it because you are here, caring about these same ideas, doing all the things you do each week to help yourself and others thrive. Thank you for being here with me, from summer to fall. I hope today you’ll pause, and notice something you haven’t noticed before. I hope you’ll tell us about it in the comments.

See you next week!