Monthly Archives: June 2017

Where is Your Outrage? Getting Angry in an Apathetic World

“If you aren’t outraged, then you just aren’t paying attention.” –Lisa Borden, The Alphabet of Avoidance

Hello friend,

This week I watched the newly-released police videos of the murder of Philando Castile and its immediate aftermath. I watched as Castile’s girlfriend, Diamond Reynolds, sat handcuffed and distraught in the backseat of a police cruiser with her four-year-old daughter. The little girl pleaded with her to stop screaming because she didn’t want her mother to “get shooted” too. At the end of the heartbreaking video, she cries to her mother, “I wish this town was safer. I don’t want it to be like this anymore.” I swallowed hard and wiped the tear from my eye. Then I got angry. Really angry. I wanted to scream, but felt like I couldn’t produce one loud enough to represent the extremes of my outrage.

After last Friday’s not guilty verdict for the officer who fired seven bullets into Castile as he sat seat-belted in his car next to his girlfriend and her daughter, I was devastated. Just after my wife told me the news, I had to pick up my kids from camp and explain to them why Mommy would be crying when we got home. We had to have another difficult discussion about race and injustice in America, including our own city, where the murder took place. It is depressing to be forced to have these conversations over and over with a six-year-old and an eight-year-old.

I had been thinking since the verdict about this sad fact of racial injustice in American life and how it pains me that my kids need to know this stuff so young. But seeing this new video of that poor little four-year-old child not only witnessing a murder of a loved one by a police officer but also being cognizant of how little it would take for them to kill her black mother, too, well, that just takes it to a whole other level. As I said, it broke me into tears watching it.

But my heartbreak morphed quickly into its natural successor: outrage.  

I was really, really mad. Mad that Castile’s murderer got off. Mad that this woman had to sit in handcuffs when she had just witnessed her boyfriend murdered and she wasn’t charged with or suspected of any crimes. Mad that this innocent little child had to witness both Castile’s murder and her mother’s humiliation. And so damn mad that we live in a world where that kind of scene—from the phony, racially-profiled traffic stop all the way to the Not Guilty verdict—is commonplace for people of color, just a regular part of what it means to be black in America. It is such a damn shame on us.

But what makes me more outraged as I simmer down from all that other stuff is that this whole thing—which was actually quite famous due to Reynolds’ Facebook Live video capturing Castile bleeding out while his murderer’s gun was still pointed at him—doesn’t seem to even cause an eyebrow to be raised for most people outside of the black community. Nothing!

We cry about it at my house and have long talks with my children, and then I write and share about it on Facebook to both educate and grieve communally. As I scroll through my Newsfeed, though, there is barely a mention of it.

Some of my black friends and a couple of my white friends—literally a couple—that live in the city of the killing share their sadness and disgust. Otherwise, crickets. Silence.

That silence, of course, chaps my hide even more. When I shared on Facebook the video of the handcuffed Diamond Reynolds and her weeping daughter in the back of the police car, along with a call to action, I got a grand total of five acknowledgements in the next 24 hours. Not comments—none of those—but Likes or Sad Face or Angry Face. Five! I bet I could get on social media right now and type “I love chocolate ice cream!” and get twice that number of responses in an hour. Apathy.

I am outraged by the lack of outrage!!!

No wonder most black people in America feel like they can’t trust white people: we do nothing but let them down over and over again. And not just by killing them and getting away with it, but mostly by our absolute apathy about such injustice. It’s not the killers that are so hurtful; it’s the vast silent mass of passive condoners of the killing who act as a rubber stamp of its approval. Our collective silence does more damage than that officer’s bullets.

I just don’t get why everyone is not more upset by this.

Why do you have to be black or have black loved ones to feel outraged by injustice toward black people? Or disabled people. Or poor people. Or LGBTQ people. Or whatever! What makes us so unfeeling, so uncaring about stuff that doesn’t happen in our own house?

And I am not saying that we all have to share exactly the same sensibilities and all have to be upset by the same things. I am outraged by what is happening in Washington, DC almost every single day, too, but I know people who are perfectly content with it. Fine.

But there is so much obvious injustice in our world and so many things that would seem to bind us together in our collective outrage. Alas, I just don’t sense it out there. Not from the crowd I am listening to. My family. My friends. My social media contacts. My world. It breaks my heart how silent and unmoved you are by things that matter so much to me (and that I want to believe would matter to you).

It is this deep sadness, this disappointment, that always remains when the fire of outrage quiets. I am more often sad than mad about stuff. I think that is part of my disposition. But I am feeling—deeply, passionately, painfully—and if nothing else, that reminds me that I care. I just don’t know about anybody else.

I am looking for it, desperately wanting to feel that flame from others the way a captain lost in the storm wants to see the lighthouse. I long for some sign, some indication that it’s not just me, that I am not alone in my pain and indignation at injustice. I want to know that the collective response to everything isn’t just a shrug, a “Whatever”. I want to know that there exists some degree of indecency, immorality, illegality, or injustice that will cause a critical mass of us to not simply raise our eyebrows but also our hearts and voices.

I feel myself both inside the world and outside, knocking on the door and wondering if we are still in here, if we will answer it or if we will turn down the lights and hide in the basement until the knocking goes away. I need to feel some reassurance that we are going to answer, because right now, I am getting nothing. That silence makes me want to scream.

How about you? Is there any rage coming out of you from the way our world is working? Open up your journal and consider what, if anything, raises you to the level where something has to be said or done about it. Is there anything? When was the last time you felt truly outraged about something? What was it? How did you vent your frustration and anger? A group protest? A Facebook rant? A vent session with a loved one who empathizes with you? Or did you just stuff it all down inside you to keep stewing? What type of thing usually draws your ire? Social justice issues? The ineptitude and acrimonious dealings of our elected officials in Washington? Environmental issues? Concerns of unfairness in your workplace? Income inequality and the dominance of the wealthy few over the many? Mistreatment in individual relationships? Why does expressing our outrage over blatant societal injustice have to be polarizing and scare us into not expressing ourselves? Is it actually controversial to say that Philando Castile was dealt an injustice or that his family was dealt another one with the verdict? I think it takes a fairly high degree of denial to survive and remain sane in this society, because there are so many causes for outrage around us. Do you find that to be the case, and how do you filter the many triggers? Do you ever worry that you have taken that filtering and denial too far, to the point that nothing outrages you anymore? I feel like most people have gotten that way about the mess in Washington. Do you think some outrage is healthy, though, as a sort of proof that you are alive and engaged with the world? I like the H.L. Mencken quote, “Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.” How often should you allow this outrage to surface in order to remain happy and balanced? How can you apply your outrage to activism for positive change? On a scale of one to ten, with one being always silent, passive, and even-keeled, and ten being outraged, vocal, and actively engaged in protest, where do you generally fall on the spectrum of outrage regarding societal injustice? Does that feel like a healthy spot for you, or is it time to make some changes? What aspect of your world needs your outrage and your voice? Are you ready to give it? Leave me a reply and let me know: Where is your outrage?

Speak and act your Truth,

William

P.S. If this resonated with you, please share it. I would also love to hear from you, either in the comments or on Facebook, especially about which of the many injustices in the world rile you most. Thank you for energy.

Is Self-Care Selfish? How Do You Show Yourself Some Love?

“You cannot serve from an empty vessel.” –Eleanor Brownn

Hello friend,

This week, for the first time in years, I took a yoga class. It stirred something in me, reminding me of something important that I once let slip from my grasp.

The other day I was talking with my neighbor about the types of therapy he is doing for his ailing back. He mentioned physical therapy, electronic stimulation, lifting weights, and acupuncture. Then he said, “But what has helped the most is yoga. It is healing my back, but mostly I feel it healing my SOUL.” He glowed as he talked about how this nightly, 30-minute video routine makes him feel inside. I thought to myself, “This guy has learned a secret he must never forget!” I told him how I have always been a huge proponent of yoga. I realized as I was saying it, though, that my endorsement felt a little hollow.

I first tried a yoga class about 20 years ago and fell instantly in love. It felt so good to me on so many levels. My body felt healthier than ever. My mind was calm and clear. And there was something more, something spiritual. My soul felt good. Yoga made me feel like I was caring for myself, doing something that made my life better and allowed me to show up better for the world around me. I told myself I was in it for life. There was no way I would stop.

I stopped.

I can’t even explain why. I just got out of the habit. That sounds really lame to me now, knowing that I never stopped working out over all these years. I also never stopped telling people how wonderful and important yoga is. I was like the paid endorser who doesn’t really use the product.

I guess I just didn’t make it a priority. Not a high enough one, anyway. I never seemed to make the time to add it to my schedule or trade it for one of the other things I was doing. Oh, I brought it back a few different times over the years for short stints—and I loved it each time—but it never stuck. I suppose that, subconsciously anyway, I considered it an overindulgence, like I just couldn’t give myself that much of a treat. I was not worthy of the extra hour just for personal growth or soul therapy.

It is not as though yoga is alone in this neglect. I have long been aware of the wondrous effect that reading books has on my soul, and yet I almost never allow myself dedicated reading time (I let myself do it when I am falling asleep at night or on an exercise machine). Music is the same way. Meditation, too, I have always sworn by yet rarely followed my own advice, even for just ten minutes per day. I have no excuse.

I have always tried to be so conscious of my time and not wasting it, and yet somehow in my haste to be productive, I seem to have regularly forgotten to feed my soul its fill. I haven’t taken the best care of what matters most.

Oh sure, I have done quite well on some fronts. I have kept up a fitness routine, and that has been at least as good for my peace of mind as it has for my body. And of course, my daily journaling practice has stood strong for 20 years. That is a huge pillar of my self-care. It is clarity and sanity disguised as a blank book. I also make a point of spending a ton of time with my kids. They put wind in my sails.

And that’s about it for consistent self-care for me. In other areas that feel important to me, I either make an occasional attempt or fail completely.

One of the areas that I recognize now more than ever is getting outdoors and spending some time in Nature. This never fails to help me to reconnect to myself and to the Divine. Whether it is a walk through the forest or a quiet contemplation by a lake or stream, this is my nearest approximation of a church. It makes me feel whole again. And I just don’t do it enough. I am better about it in the Summer, even if it is something as simple as laying in my hammock and listening to the birds sing and the leaves rustle. I know I do best, though, when I get out away from the paved roads and buildings, and that is something I just don’t make the time for very often.

Something that I have improved on a bit in this last year is sleeping. Starting from the time my daughter was born almost nine years ago, I have really struggled in this department. I had an excuse for a few years when the kids were little, but I became too accustomed to being raggedy. As soon as they started sleeping better, I started using that extra time for personal growth things that I had put off, like taking classes and starting these letters to you. I was running myself into the ground trying to get it all done, going on the fumes of a mere four or five hours of sleep per night, every night. As I said, just in the last year I have made a more concerted effort to bring that number up closer to seven hours. I don’t always succeed, but I feel better when I do.

Nutrition is another one that I am just getting started with. After a lifetime of pretending I could eat mostly whatever I want and still feel good, I have lately started to pay closer attention to the ways different foods affect my energy and my comfort. I am beginning to cut things out of my diet. There is a long way to go, but it feels like the right direction for my long-term health and happiness.

The one thing that I haven’t tried but that consistently tugs at my thoughts is the inclusion of more art and creation in my life. Writing these letters to you is about as close as I get to that, and Writing Day is the most fulfilling day of my week. But I want more, and I want variety. Specifically, I feel music calling out to me. I mentioned earlier that even dedicated time for listening to music lifts me up, but what my soul is itching for is to learn how to play it. I own a guitar and a beginner book, but I have never given myself permission to take that time. The same goes with the piano. Even when I touch the keys briefly as I am cleaning the house, my spirit does a little dance. I know the signs are telling me to play.

These musical longings speak again to this issue I seem to have about indulgences. Somehow, somewhere along the way I seem to have confused self-care with selfishness. I allow myself time to write in my journal, and that feels like all I deserve. I give myself permission to exercise daily, but only if it is while the rest of my family is still sleeping. I offer all of my energies to my kids—which I love doing for me—because I can claim it as good for them. I can justify adjustments to my nutrition because it is not taking up any more time or directly affecting anyone else. If I let myself go to bed earlier, I have to write less.

That thing about wasting time and being inefficient—combined with these feelings of unworthiness and guilt about selfishness—is exactly why I don’t allow myself the other self-care activities that I know would do so much for me. Meditation. Nature walks. Learning the guitar and piano. Reading books. Listening to music. These are all things that require time that I seem to feel I don’t deserve. As though care for my soul is not reason enough. This realization saddens me. I want to think I am worth more than that to myself.

This is why I was pleasantly surprised when I found myself granting special permission to go to yoga class this week. You see, I think a big reason yoga left my schedule is that it usually doesn’t feel like as much of a pure workout as lifting weights or running or something like that does, so I had a hard time justifying yoga instead of one of those (my efficiency hang-up at its most glaring). So it was a big deal for me when I substituted a cardiovascular workout for the yoga class (even though I did have to get up even earlier to make it). I consciously prioritized the benefits to my mind and spirit.

Whoa! It seems really strange even to type that thought! I just don’t do that very often, apparently.

And though I felt guilty for missing the cardio workout, oh my, how good that yoga class felt! It was a genuine treat. I was working at it, but it still felt like a pampering for my soul. I can still feel the effects on my mood even days later. What a discovery! This is what self-care feels like! I think I could get used to this. Well, you know, after a few visits to the shrink, maybe!

How about you? What does self-care look like to you? Walk yourself through your weekly slate of activities. Which items on your itinerary are aimed at getting yourself feeling connected, engaged, and at your best? Which ones are, like my journaling, your most ingrained habits, things that are a normal part of your life? How long have you been practicing those things? Could you imagine letting go of those habits? Which of your self-care practices is most important to you? Why? What practices have you tried and liked at some point but never made a part of your routine? Do you envision yourself returning to them? What will it take? Which ones have you had high expectations for but turned out to be just not your thing? Do you have any, like my guitar learning, that you haven’t tried but that your soul seems to be calling out for you to try? Why have you ignored that call to this point? What will get you to begin? Are your self-care activities more often done alone (e.g. meditating or reading) or with others (e.g. coffee with a friend or a yoga class)? Do you allot a certain amount of time each day that you proclaim as “Me Time” and really own it, or are you generally unaware of when you are taking care of yourself? Are you worthy of that dedicated time just for you? Are you only good at justifying it in the flow of your everyday life (e.g. nutrition), or are you good at claiming bigger chunks of time (e.g. a spa day or girls’ weekend), too? Is self-care intertwined with self-worth, i.e. the more we value ourselves, the more we care for ourselves? If so, what does your level of self-care say about how much you value yourself? How can you move that needle more in the right direction? How does it feel to be renewed from within? What best helps you get there? Leave me a reply and let me know: What does self-care look like to you?

You are totally worth it,

William

P.S. If this resonated with you, please pass it on. We are ALL worth it!

Are You Still Learning?

“Wisdom is not a product of schooling but of the lifelong attempt to acquire it.” –Albert Einstein

Hello friend,

I am jealous of my kids this week. They had their last day of school and all of the shenanigans that come with it. They have had extra recess. They have had treats and prizes. They have had fieldtrips and game days.

Remember all that stuff from when you were a kid? Gosh, those were fun days! These kids are so lucky!!

I have had lots of smiles all week as they came home and told me what wonderful surprises they were treated to each day. Meanwhile, they have also been lugging home their backpacks full of the projects and assignments that they have worked on throughout the school year. It has my been job to archive these creations: artwork, short stories, science projects, writing exercises, math worksheets, book reports, and more.

As I picked through each piece of paper and noted the date it was completed before I studied the work, I became captivated by the arc of each child’s learning curve over the course of the year (my son finished first grade and my daughter third). I was truly amazed at how much each one progressed in the course of nine months. Both are so much better at reading, writing, and math—somehow, that is still “The 3Rs”—than they were in September. That makes me a proud Daddy.

But what really got my envy going—other than the extra recess, of course—was my realization of how much new stuff they have learned over those months. Cool stuff! Stuff that makes their world so much more interesting to them and stuff that makes them seem a lot smarter than their parents. LOTS OF STUFF!!!

My six-year-old brought home this big diagram he made showing the life cycle of the caterpillar/butterfly and taught me about its anatomy. He learned everything you could ever want to know about mealworms. He learned fun facts about the koala, octopus, and lorikeet. He learned how to draw Pokémon characters. He can make Haiku poems now, too. Oh yeah, and he learned all of that 3R stuff, too. In ONE school year!

My eight-year-old learned coding to make robots. She just did a report—researched it on the computer at home with no help–on invasive species, specifically the Asian Long-Horned Beetle. She learned how to do cartoon drawing and Venn diagrams. She has all of these cool ways to do math problems that I never dreamed of. She learned all about story structure and wrote several stories. She created a play for a competition. She learned to write in cursive. She learned all about how bats use echolocation to find their way in the night sky. She learned about fish anatomy and how to care for a hamster. She became a budding astronomer.

And this was just the stuff they learned in school during these months. My daughter learned tons more on the piano and memorized some big songs for recitals. She learned about singing songs, too. She learned how to make jewelry and how to prepare tea. My son memorized the best players on almost every NBA team and all of their best skills. He has also become a walking encyclopedia of Pokémon knowledge. They both learned how to play basketball and the techniques for all of the main swimming strokes. They learned about soccer, track, and tennis, too.

Learning Learning Learning. It is constant with these kids! They just keep adding to their repertoires. Every day they master more and more of their worlds. It is absolutely amazing to me.

And though I am as proud a parent as the next guy, I say all this with no special sense of pride or boasting. I imagine every kid’s list is about this long. They are all wonders to me!

No, what props up in me as I tick off their many new learnings from this year is not pride but envy. I am jealous of how much they have learned and how quickly they are able to absorb such newness into their worlds. I can’t help but compare myself to them and see how short I fall in the learning department.

I took Developmental Psychology in college, so I understand that the capacity for such amazing feats of learning by kids is wired into them. They are made to learn so much in such a short time. But I also think that we adults usually let ourselves off the hook once we learn enough to survive in this world. We don’t rise to the challenge to continue our education and increase our mastery of these lives. I know that I have been guilty of this laziness.

I am sure that if you gave me a day and pressed me for a list of all the subjects I want to learn more about and all of the new skills I want to learn, I could make that list a mile long. I think of myself as extremely curious. Yet I look at these kids and their learning, and I feel like a fraud by comparison.

Am I really as curious and ambitious to learn as I think I am? What the heck have I learned in the last year???

I can already feel my failings because the first thought that comes into my head was how excited I was when I had my daughter teach me all about the phases of the moon cycle–words like waxing and gibbous now have meaning for me—last month when she was doing an assignment for class. We tracked it on all of the clear nights, and I was giddy with the new knowledge. Me, learning from a third grader.

I learned more about American history this year through some intentional reading and documentary film-watching. That has been eye-opening and has left me wanting to know more. I have spent a lot of time learning about the book publishing industry, which I will continue to learn about in the coming year as well. I have learned more about government and politics than I probably wanted to know, including this week learning more about impeachment. I learned all about the world of Harry Potter, again thanks to my daughter. And though I have read some other excellent books, I can’t claim to have learned a lot more. I would be reaching if I made the list any longer.

That is a pretty pathetic list when you put it up next to my kids’! Can I still call myself intellectually ambitious and a lifelong learner? Oh, I hope so. I don’t plan to stop anytime soon, but next year I definitely need to pick up my pace. But that’s next year. It’s Summertime now! Don’t I get a break?

How about you? How much have you learned in the last year? Open up your journal and walk yourself back through the last twelve months. What new subjects or skills have you really taken on? I mean things that you have put in an effort to know more about or skills that you did not have before and made a point to add. Start with the knowledge. What subjects have you studied up on this year—books, articles, classes—that have added to your lexicon of knowledge? Were they topics that you have long wanted to know about or things that you just stumbled into? How interesting was the study? Did you find the addition of new knowledge exhilarating and satisfying? Did it get you excited to learn even more about that topic or about other things? What about new physical skills, like cooking, a sport, a musical instrument, or a craft? When did you last learn one of those kinds of skills? How did that type of learning affect you compared to “book learning”? Which do you prefer? Is it just more difficult to learn new stuff as you get older? At your age and stage, is learning still appealing to you? Appealing enough to actually make the effort to do it? What would you like your next topic or skill to be? What is one small thing you can do this week to get started? Leave me a reply and let me know: What have you learned lately?

Life is a lesson,

William

P.S. If this resonated with you, please pass it on. Share the gift of self-knowledge!

The Month of Me

“I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.” –L.M. Montgomery, Anne of the Island

Hello friend,

As a kid growing up in North Dakota, we always got out of school in late May. I remember my heart feeling like it was going to beat right out of my chest, such was my excitement on the last day of school. I was absolutely bursting at the seams to get out. Then, as if the Universe were testing me, we would have a cold, wet Memorial Day weekend—I swear, it seemed that way every year—making me wonder if we were heading back to Winter instead. My disillusionment never lasted long, though. It seemed that no matter how miserably frigid that holiday weekend was, when June 1st rolled around, we were golden. It was warm and sunny and simply perfect for the pure Freedom inherent in my cherished season of Summer. All was well in my world.

I used to play a tennis tournament in South Dakota in mid-June, when we had been out of school for a couple of weeks. The word was that the Minnesota kids who came were just finishing up school. That seemed nothing short of scandalous to me. How could they make them go to school during the Summer??? I couldn’t comprehend it. Well, my kids are Minnesotans now, and I still can’t comprehend it.

My childhood understanding of Summer as June, July, and August has never changed, even though I have lived in places much warmer than North Dakota. Those are the sacred months, not to be tainted by the likes of school. And though I enjoy myself no matter which page the calendar is turned to and have come to appreciate even the depths of Winter, I am—and always have been—a child of Summer.

If you had asked me years ago which month of the calendar I most love and which one just feels like me, I would have said that I am a July kind of guy. After all, July is the absolute height and epitome of Summer. The temperature is warmer. There is the 4th of July, which is the Summer holiday. It has no resemblance to any other season. It is pure, unadulterated Summer. That feels like me. If you made me choose a second, I would have gone with August. Whatever is warmest.

As the years have passed, however, I have watched my mind ever closer and learned a few things about how I tick. One of those things is that, despite all of my proclaimed faithfulness to the moment and the importance of being present, my mind, when left unchecked, looks inexorably forward. I really have to steady myself and breathe intentionally to stay in the present and fully enjoy it. If I slip, I fly instantly to the future. I daydream about all of the good, the bad, and the uncertain to come. I enjoy it in advance or I dread it in advance, whichever the situation demands. Thus, with the ratios of time spent in each being entirely dependent upon my level of discipline, I oscillate continually between the present and the future.

It was my recognition of this mental weakness that provided the foundation for my true home on the calendar. You see, once the 4th of July hits, people start saying things like, “Can you believe that Summer is half over?” and “Did you see the Back To School ads in the paper?” My internal emergency sirens begin to wail. I have to cover my ears and run screaming from the room. I cannot bear the feeling of my beautiful season being sullied by thoughts of Autumn rituals and temperatures.

And though I can mostly fend off those horrible thoughts in July, I am powerless to them in August. There are supplies for school and registrations for sports and such. But mostly, there are just so many “last such-and-such of the Summer” things in August. Last weekend at the lake. Last campfire. Last jump in the pool. Last barbecue. I love all of those things so much, but in August they are tinged with a certain sadness in the knowledge—no matter how much I try to push it from my mind—that the end is drawing near.

I hate to admit that I feel that tinge every day after mid-July. It pollutes my joy. It is the reverse of what happens to me when I go running. If I start feeling tired or sore before I get to the halfway point, I am in big trouble, because my mind finds that unbearable. Once I pass the halfway point, though, I can handle anything. The finish line is in my mind, and I am free. Summer is the opposite. Everything in the first half is footloose and fancy-free. I have my whole life ahead of me, and you cannot keep me from smiling. It is beautiful. But after the halfway point, there is that shadow of Autumn looming in the distance, watching greedily and stealing a little more of my sunshine with each passing day. Even the greatest Joy feels a little sad when you acknowledge that it is fleeting.

It was with this realization that I finally accepted myself as a June guy. With the exception of the lake water being a little more chilly than I would like, June is everything I have ever wanted in a month.   It is warm. It is sunny. It is without school. And most importantly, it fulfills my unique need: it is simultaneously Summer and has only more Summer to look forward to. Basically, there is freedom flying everywhere in this magnificent month. And I am nothing if not a freedom-loving soul. To borrow a cheesy movie concept, June completes me.

I am so giddy with excitement right now! I can’t wait to take my Sunday morning runs in the forest. I will take my daughter to the lakeshore after those runs to have a donut and listen to the birds sing. I am going to write from my hammock. I will do backflips on the trampoline. I am going to get my kayak out on the water. I’m going to head over to the local beach with my kids and let them do flips off my shoulders. I will dig my fingers in the dirt and grow vegetables. I will ride behind the boat on the tube with my kids. I will watch them play with their cousins as I catch up with my siblings. I will sit on the porch at the cabin and listen to my Mom. I will bask in the sublime feeling of hitting a tennis ball. I will sit by a stream and watch the magic of Nature. I will throw a frisbee. I will dust off my mountain bike. I will run through the sprinkler. And I will smile through it all.

That unforced and unending smile is my surest sign that June is my time to shine.

How about you? Which month is your perfect match? Open up your journal and walk your mind through the year. Which page of the calendar feels like home? What is it about your month that makes it feel like you? Is it in your favorite season? Is that necessary? Maybe so. If it is, what is it about your season that draws you there? The weather? The colors of nature? The activities in your life? Memories? And what about the particular month within that season: what distinguishes your month? Is it like mine and dependent upon where it falls within your favorite season? Is it in the beginning, middle, or end of its season? What is the significance of that to you? In the way I associate June with feelings of Freedom, what are the feelings of your month? Does that make sense given your personality and your soul’s code? What are your favorite things to do in your month? Does the thought of doing them make you glow like I am glowing right now? Leave me a reply and let me know: Which is the month of YOU?

You are glorious,

William

P.S. If this resonated with you, please share it with those you value. Happy Summer!!!