Samhain. 1888. Pronounced sow-in. It means “summer’s end.” If you look at the root, Sam (1300) also translates as “age in years” - counted by Summers. A festival to honor your age in Summers? In gratitude for the bounty of the season and in preparation for surviving the long Winter ahead? In prayer that they’ll make it to another Summer?
I’m in.
A few weeks ago, I posted the piece below on my Patreon. But after (somewhat unintentionally) celebrating Samhain, it feels right to share an inventory of all that I'm leaving behind me here:
The Summer I Learned Plenty
For the first time in a very long time, I had the whole Summer off. So instead of slinging sunglasses to the students who stayed in town, I was able to place marks all over our wall calendar! All said and done, your least favorite writer and her beau were “officially on vacation” for 28 days. In preparation, I’d made an extensive list of what I’d like to read, study, and write about. But pretty quickly, I learned the most valuable lesson of all. Sometimes learning means less seeking. More quiet contemplation. And much more absorbing. So I made a crucial pivot. One that made all the difference.
“Pack the volumes and the MacBook.
Eighty six the itinerary.”
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And with that single decision, I made a sacred promise to myself. Instead of seeking lessons or entertainment intentionally, I would imbed myself within the arranged enclaves and focus. Listen. Taking copious amounts of notes, I was able to gain access to information that had been at-my-fingertips for some time. Too long overlooked.
I learned that the natural world is my constant companion… pale pink petals on the water, whisking me into the arms of my fellow for a moonlit swim. A beetle, taking center stage - on cue - as we took the long way home from Camp Watercolor. Each of our frog friends, whether solid as a sentry or soaked to the bone, tenacious in their own right. A bedraggled lizard - begging me to banish his tormenters. Dragonflies the size of helicopters. A lone cricket in the lap pool. Irreverent seagulls - each tucked in the most unexpected perch. Each consort carried a truth to share: “come this way,” “for some adventures, you’ll need armor,” “home, you’ll be home soon,” “careful jumping into something without an exit plan.” I learned to listen to silence as well. This Summer. Without letting it break me.
I also learned that pretty is as pretty does. Makeup can only do so much. And these days “so much” is actually quite a bit. Take one look at a couple deconstructed Real Housewives and you’ll see the proof in that pudding. But there is no amount of spackle or bronzer that will cover up a lack of kindness. Manners, empathy, radical inclusion - especially including the odd “man” out - will do more for your complexion than anything they can bottle. What they’ll do for your soul? Well that’s just a bonus! Gift with “purchase.” As Nelson Mandela much more poignantly pointed out: ”Character is how you treat those who can do nothing for you.” Pretty words, from a gorgeous human being.
I learned to get a second opinion. When the people surrounding you make you feel invisible, pay attention to strangers. Often, they see things those closest to us have overlooked - from frantic stare to unwelcome tear… A waitress who wasn’t assigned to our table made me blush in Pompano. An over served fangirl swore that I was a star in Seaside. Three twenty-somethings on their first group trip to 30A swooned over my glasses in a thrift shop, plotting to update their own and asking alllll the questions. And a lifeguard with perfect lipstick was the utter manifestation of what I always daydreamed it would be like to have teenage girls in the house. Love really is all around! A lesson I downloaded some time ago but misplaced, in the struggle to manage my grief.
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And I learned that Nobody… And when I type that I do mean not one single, solitary person. Nobody’s lack of consideration or courtesy is my emergency. Growing up, messages surrounding my value were often based in being helpful. Praise: “You came along when I needed to remember how beautiful life really is.” Or command: “Ashley PLEASE just keep her happy.” Occasionally: “you’re not very pleasant to be around right now.” And even... even when my father’s wife explained to me how he assured her that I was so low maintenance that they wouldn’t need to put together a big budget for my wedding... It almost sounded like a compliment. Yeah. I actually absorbed *you’re entitled to less because you don’t ask for as much* as a compliment. (My crew helped me realize that people have been taking advantage of my nature for much longer than I realized.)
So for the first (crossing my fingers & toes that I’m only halfway done) half of my life, I did as much as I could to be that person, for as many people as possible, for a very long time. And as often as possible. I was desperate to be her. To be loved. But I’m actually really exhausted by her at this point. Because once there was no longer anything she could do to be of service, the world was quite a lonely place to inhabit. Discarded. Picked up by anyone with a con wrapped in an emergency. And discarded again. And so it was that, through a rigorous curriculum of caterwaul, a series of suicidal ideation, and an absolute cannon of painful realizations, I arrived at this conclusion: never loan your time, attention, or anything you value to someone who looks right through you until they have an urgent request.
It wasn’t always elegant, uncovering these articles of emotional intellect. My face was, many times, too teardrop etched to leave the room, or the house. Or the gas station bathroom. But I learned one more thing this Summer:
My Grandfather, Boppa - of Clan Honey, taught me how to “bet on the right horse.” And that horse carries an absolute Prince. Valiantly. To guard post. Or into battle. Every single time I need him.
So I’ll never trade this castle for crypto.
With each of the 35 days left in this rainy Summer (once we returned home) I leaned into caring for the people who see the tears my smile or silence so desperately attempts to hide. There’s a new girl in that crew. Her name is - wink - Ashley. And she finally sees all of it with crystal clarity. But you can call me “Kitty.” #IYKYK Pretty and witty, cheap as a disco ball, and leaving a wake of orange feathers in the rearview - I’m focusing on the gratitude I harbor for these “low tide” lessons.
Because this tempest-less teacup runneth TF over! Xo,A
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