"Come with me
to visit the sunflowers,
Don't be afraid
to ask them questions!
Their bright faces,
which follow the sun,
will listen, and all
those rows of seeds -
each one a new life!
Come and let us talk with those modest faces,
the simple garments of leaves,
the coarse roots in the earth
so uprightly burning."
Mary Oliver, Excerpts from The Sunflowers
There's something about the liquid honey warmth of the sun. There's something about appreciating this summer season on our Northern Hemisphere, that makes me want to stop working so damn hard. On myself, on my relationships, on my career. There's something about the golden light that takes my breath away and let's me soften into the striking beauty of this season. Like, it's all here, it's good, what's the freaking problem you eternal self-help-improvement queen? What's the freaking problem with right here, right now?
And so I turn to the sunflowers. These massive beasts of beauty, who turn their heavy, seed laden heads towards the sun and receive. They do not deny the rich dark soil beneath their feet, they don't abandon it in search of the light. Nope, they dig in and drink in the nourishment of the damp dark earth below. And then they simply turn their heavy heads to the sun and recieve.
So that's what I'm doing. I'm noticing the circling thoughts of better, faster, more....I'm noticing how the capitalist engine of bigger, more efficient, more for less, has infiltrated me, and I'm shaking it off. I'm turning towards the sun and receiving. Simple. I find this easy to play with in dance most of all. When I notice myself "working," I'm offering my body effortlessness. I'm discovering pathways and gestures of receiving. It's really different. I'm less tired, more satisfied, and less in need of "working."
Your invitation this week is to play with the sun, with warmth, with receptivity. With laying down your constant background conversation with yourself of how you're going to "improve" upon the imperfect perfection you already are, and how you're going to delight in what's always been right here. Right now.