Seasons of Uncertainty
Summer heat brings up particular memories for me. The South Carolina coast where I grew up will be at its most lush--marsh mud will be pungent and crawling with fiddler crabs, tall grasses will be mellowing from crisp yellow to deep green, and roaring ocean waves will feel as warm and sticky as the actual air around them.
Soon, this rich fertility will topple over into hurricane season, when we'll watch our local radar, mesmerized by the colorful, swirling eyes of various storms that may or may not ever make landfall. I like these memories. They make me feel vulnerable, humbled by nature's preeminence, yet also somehow powerful. Perhaps I'm empowered because I know the season is coming, know how to get ready. But I believe it's mostly because I know that I am doing what literally hundreds of millions of other humans have done before me: pondering and preparing for survival. We all watch the sky, looking above even while we look around and within for what will keep us alert, active and alive.
Yoga won't keep a house from harm when tornados spin, but then again neither will my supply of canned tuna and bottled water. So, I like to allow for both kinds of preparation. As we move toward another season of uncertainty, we might delight in working now to fill both our pantries and our hearts with the lush abundance of compassion, comprehension and joy!