contentment

it seems that everyone has a season, or a time of year that makes them wish for another. for many, it is winter, and the desire for longer days, more sunshine, and less cold becomes the cry of their heart.

for me, it is summer. i find the heat draining, not just physically, but emotionally and creatively as well. so my tendency during these hot days is to dream of fall, of sweater weather, of walking accompanied by the crunch of brightly hued leaves underfoot. of pumpkin pies to be baked. of...

but the truth is i cannot live in the future. and even though right now my mind can conjure up almost exactly how a pie would smell if it were baking in the oven right now, it is not what is before me. what is before me, is a thursday in july. and even though, temperature-wise, it probably won't be my favorite thursday of the year, this is where i must live.

i love this poem by Wendell Berry, and how it helps me to remember that i am here, not in october, and that it's not a perfect world that i need to live in, but a better way of looking at the one i find myself in.

What We Need Is Here
—Wendell Berry

Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.