Slowness and Summer

Leaning into Leisure

I drew this a few weeks back. There’s a bench towards the back of the property, next to a tiny pond that a handful of frogs and some water hyacinth call home. And daily I look at that bench and think, “Wouldn’t it be grand to sit here for a bit and draw.” And on the daily, I breeze by to hang up laundry or pay bills, because there are Things That Need to be Done. And the world will not end if I don’t draw, but it might if I fail to pay my phone bill.

But when August hit, I realized the time to sit out on the bench was fading away. So I snuck off with my sketchbook, some markers and a cup of coffee one morning. It was a rare day that I didn’t have to be anyplace early. The breeze was soft and the sunlight still wan when I sat down. And that half hour was glorious for no big reason. Of course, the time offered no financial remuneration. Don’t talk to me about the pile of laundry that still needed homing. But in those 30 minutes I recharged my batteries in a way I’d been neglecting.

I’m a pragmatist when it comes to gardening. I mostly grow vegetables and herbs, because if I’m bending over weeds in July humidity, I want a payoff. My relationship with gardening is transactional: I want pesto on my pizza and snap peas in my stir fry. And if put x amount of effort into the garden, I’m repaid with y amount of return.

But flowers?

I’ve (silently) felt that flowers were frivolous. But then I started growing zinnia last year on a whim and I’ve been forced to alter my opinion. Zinnias are a joy. They come late in the season here and last through to the killing frost, an explosion of color when most other blooms are fading away. And the variety! No two flowers look the same and I’m constantly amazed by the myriad of color combinations the zinnia produce. So now I’ve talked about wasting time and growing blooms. Is there a point here?

I think so.

I am a fan of lists and plans. Long-term plans, short-term plans, long-range goals and monthly objectives, I make note of them all. But I noticed this summer it was like pulling teeth to get myself to commit to any sort of professional objectives. It’s not burnout. Maybe it’s malaise triggered by the past few years feeling so intense? But rather than hunker down even more, I cut myself some slack.

I didn’t wake up at the crack of dawn. I let myself just read on the weekends. I walked away from social media on occasion. And I didn’t expect anything creatively meaningful to be produced from June until September. The fascinating outcome of this is that I actually feel more creative. Ideas have flickered through my thoughts and glimmers of plans I’d like to pursue.

This breathing room inspired me to try using a Monk Manual again. I’m planning to start with it this fall, in hopes of keeping this summer sense of equilibrium. I’d used one a few years back and found it incredibly helpful in identifying what was truly meaningful and what was just busywork. I’m committing to finish the half-completed projects on my docket, rather than moving on to the next shiny thing. The middle grade graphic novel I’ve been tinkering with for the past year needs to bump to the top of the queue. And I’m giving myself permission to go get coffee Friday mornings. Are there weeks and seasons where this isn’t possible? Absolutely. Deadlines are deadlines and I’ve realized there’s no way to fully dodge the way that impacts life. But I think greater intentionality can still be (hopefully) found this fall, so that’s my goal in the weeks and months ahead.

Although, I refuse to engage with pumpkin spice until the Autumnal Equinox. Sorry.