Lightning (Bugs) in a Bottle

Recapturing the feeling your soul knows all too well.

All,

There’s a line from an old Peanuts comic strip that seems to end up on repeat in my head at this time of year where Linus and Charlie Brown exuberantly shout “School is out! No more school!” among a flurry of discarded books and notebook paper.

It expresses a level of joy and freedom I believe we can all relate to at our core no matter how far removed we may be from the days of being a student.

For me, it harkens back to an invisible line of demarcation, one where you left a building – and all the roles and responsibilities it represented – with no need nor intention of returning to it for a few months.

It wasn’t only where one season ended and another symbolically began, but where a version of you had the privilege of going through the same transformation.

And sure, summer – if you were lucky – represented some hallmark events: Carnivals, trips to the shore, fireworks. But with the power of reflection I can’t help but notice that these were really the exclamation points on a different, brighter routine of life.

The rhythm of which was formed with the true restorative qualities of the season.

Like a perpetual pitcher of iced tea in the fridge.

And dinner on the grill, consumed outdoors, ants and all, always.

Or bare feet in need of washing before bed.

A slumber no more peaceful than one with the window open.

The list goes on, but the message is clear: In the summer, tweaking the mundane is where the magic happens.

And the best part is that as an adult, you can tap into these soul soothers without needing to be released.

Except, of course, from your own self-imposed standards for structure and productivity.

Which is why I’m thinking of finding a fuzzy caterpillar of my own, and watching it munch on leaves as it climbs on the twigs in the home I make for it in a mason jar, holes cut out in the top.

I can’t help but wonder who I might become in the process.

Of allowing myself to be cocooned by summer.

Here’s to you,