August has a particular feeling to it.

Summer is still very much here, and yet there are little reminders everywhere that something is beginning to shift.

The evenings arrive a little sooner. The light feels different. September begins appearing in conversations and calendars. There is still warmth, still possibility, still summer ahead of us. And yet, because we know the season is beginning to change, a strange urgency can sometimes creep in.

Have I done enough?

One more patio.

One more beach day.

One more weekend away.

One more perfect summer memory before it all disappears.

But lately I’ve been wondering whether the invitation at the end of summer is not to do more with what remains.

Perhaps it is to be more present for it.

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Mindful Presence

There is something tender about being between seasons.

One thing has not quite ended, while another has already begun calling our attention.

Life starts to pick back up.

Schedules return. Calendars fill. September plans begin taking shape.

At the same time, summer is still here.

There are evenings to sit outside.

Bare feet on grass.

Warm air through an open window.

Walks that stretch a little longer because the sun has not quite disappeared.

What if, instead of trying to capture every remaining moment of summer, we simply allowed ourselves to experience it?

Mary Oliver offered these beautiful instructions:

“Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”
— Mary Oliver, Sometimes

Pay attention.

Perhaps that is enough.

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What I’m Learning

Our first Resonant Roots: An End of Summer Reset at The Spa at The Old Mill gave me a beautiful reminder of this.

A sold-out circle gathered for an evening of movement, breath, sound, release, reflection, and rest.

People arrived carrying whatever they had been carrying.

And for a little while, there was nowhere else to be.

Afterward, participants described feeling “relaxed and calm,” “refreshed,” and “very peaceful and grounded.”

One person shared that the breath practice allowed them to release deeply before moving into the restorative experience of the sound bath.

Another loved watching the pieces of paper used in our releasing ritual simply dissolve into the water.

That image has stayed with me.

Something held.

Something acknowledged.

And then, gently, something released.

There was no need to force it.

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The Space Between Seasons

Perhaps this is part of what makes the end of summer feel both beautiful and a little sad.

We know it cannot remain exactly as it is.

And sometimes our response to that knowing is to hold on tighter.

But our bodies live within cycles too.

Expansion and contraction.

Activity and rest.

Holding and releasing.

Beginning and ending.

Nature does not seem embarrassed by transition. It does not apologize when the light changes or the air cools.

It simply moves.

Maybe there is wisdom in allowing ourselves to do the same.

Not rushing summer away.

Not gripping tightly enough to try to keep it.

Simply noticing that we are standing at a threshold.

Photo by: Takwa Abdo

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Mindful Motivation

Maybe we don’t need to squeeze every last drop out of summer.

Maybe we can simply taste what is still here.

Sit outside a little longer.

Notice the evening light.

Walk without needing to get anywhere.

Let a conversation linger.

Feel the warmth of the sun on your skin.

Take one deep breath before opening the September calendar.

There will be time for what comes next.

For me, what comes next includes Resonant Roots: Grounding into Autumn at The Spa at The Old Mill, Somatic Dance in High Park and Contrast Therapy at Revive Wellness Club, and Write Your Life: Unearth Your Story, a retreat with Lisa Randall at Gibraltar on Toronto Island.

Each gathering offers its own way of moving intentionally into a new season.

But before we arrive there, I want to honour this one.

Not by filling every remaining moment.

By noticing it.

Stay here.

Notice what remains.

Let summer leave slowly.

With love,

Julia

Move with ease. Breathe with ease. Live with ease.