Today is September 1. Have you done anything different than what you normally do on a Tuesday? Or has the day gone pretty much the way it generally does? Did you wake up thinking, "Wow, today's the beginning of a new month, the beginning of a new season"? Did you have a little nudge from someplace deep within to perhaps do something different, something new, to treat yourself to a fresh start in some aspect of your life or to return to a familiar, but set aside pattern?
What does your September calendar look like? For many, obviously, September means returning to school as a student or teacher or parents of students. September means the restart of many activities and perhaps a return to routine after lighter, looser days of summer.
I am quite amazed when I look at my September calendar and see how full it is already. For one thing, we have a road trip planned to see family and friends, but other events dot the calendar.
* A lecture by Atul Gawande, the author of Being Mortal
* A visit from a friend timed so we hear Elizabeth Gilbert talk about her new book, Big Magic, Creative Living Beyond Fear
* A Saturday workshop about writing memoir by a local author, Elizabeth Andrew, sponsored by Wisdom Ways.
* Book Club. We will discuss Ian McEwan's The Children Act
* Monthly appointments with my spiritual directees.
* The retreat I am co-facilitating, "Growing Older With Grace, Spiritual Practices for the Second Half of Life"
And, of course, there will be our own version of back-to school duties. Taking or picking up our grandkids Peter and Maren from school and doing some volunteering at the elementary school. I am planning to work in the library one afternoon a week. We love being able to be part of their lives in this way.
Oh, and writing time. I have a long list of writing activities. Writing has been part of my daily routine all summer and I intend to continue that habit.
With one set of good friends, I am referred to as "Nancy the Cruise Director," for I am usually, but not always, the one who comes up with an idea of something fun or interesting to do or somewhere to visit. This summer, for example, I organized our Donut Day Adventure and also the evening at the ballpark to view the movie Field of Dreams. On the fall docket is Soda Fountain Day and drives to see fall colors. All good fun and not to be missed.
How easy it is to fill the calendar. How much you fill it is in part related to your energy and interest level, your relationships and social network, your work situation, even your financial status. I wonder, however, how conscious you are about leaving empty space in your calendar. I wonder how you view the empty spaces. Does it feel like you need to fill your weeks or does a day without any notation on the calendar comes as a relief, giving you time to breathe?
How much do you take charge yourself of what is entered on your calendar?
I know I must have time to sit in the quiet, to meditate, to read. To sink deeply into spiritual practice. And sometimes that means giving up something else. Sometimes it means staying home from something I have previously agreed to attend. I think of those times as "life happens" times or more accurately, too much life has happened, and I need a time out in order to be in my life more fully. I am quite good, actually, knowing when I need to erase planned time on the calendar.
September seems like a good time to look with new eyes at how you use your time. Your calendar can become a tool for spiritual practice for you, a way to stay awake and aware of how you are moving in the world and how present you are to the movement of the Sacred in your life.
An Invitation
What's on your calendar for September? Is there enough room on the calendar for deepening your spiritual life? I would love to know.
One Thursday each month I will share a reflection with you about that specific month. Here's September's reflection.
I love September Saturdays, especially Saturdays when I can start the day by going to the farmers' market and then come home to putter in my kitchen.
Such bounty there was at the market on a recent Saturday, making it hard to remember I cook only for two. Even with that restriction, I made two trips to the car. One laden with corn on the cob and apples and the other with zucchini and yellow squash and green peppers and summer greens and onions and new potatoes and golden tomatoes and carrots and hamburger buns and hamburger patties.
And flowers.
Gladiolas for the front porch. I love glads. I love their extroverted personalities--the definite colors and big blossoms and unwieldy stems. Many people associate glads with funerals, but I think about the front porches of the turn of the century homes at the Chautauqua Institution in upstate New York. Every home, it seemed, had a vase of glads on their front porch, announcing how happy and lucky the home's residents were to be there. Just the way I feel about this kind of day.
Sunflowers for the kitchen. I love sunflowers. I love their disposition, their ability to find the sun wherever they are. I remember taking the train from Rome to Florence in early fall and seeing fields of them. An Italian Welcoming Committee. One day roaming narrow streets in Florence we found a small pottery shop and bought a large pitcher painted with sunflowers. Now full of American sunflowers.
The first batch of applesauce. In the peeling and chopping and boiling and stirring and smelling, all the previous Septembers rush through me. The years we lived at Sweetwater Farm, and I walked the neglected orchard at the far edge of our land and hoped the deer enjoyed the fallen apples. Sunday night suppers of homemade tomato soup (See my recipe for tomato soup in my Tuesday, September 12, 2012 post), grilled cheese, and applesauce and an apple for lunch at school or work.
I think of these verses from the Apocrypha in the Old Testament:
Why is one day more important
than another,
when all the daylight in the year
is from the sun?
By the Lord's wisdom they were
distinguished,
and he appointed the different
seasons and festivals.
Some days he exalted and
hallowed,
and some days he made ordinary
days.
Ecclesiasticus (also called Sirach) 33:7-9
My father frequently says, "Every day is a good day." I don't mean to contradict the writers of Ecclesiasticus and certainly my devout father would not sanction that, but it seems to me he no longer cares about the difference between exalted and hallowed days and ordinary days. It's not that they all merge into one hodgepodge collage, but rather that every ordinary day is to be exalted, is to be hallowed. Surely, the Divine rejoices.
Sunflowers and gladiolas and apples and the rest of autumn's bounty blend the distinction for me between what is exalted and hallowed and what is ordinary. Going to the market and chatting briefly with the growers and then coming home to recipe books and time standing at counter and stove and then later serving a meal, not fancy, but oh so tasty, is my way of following the sun like the sunflowers on our kitchen counter. I joined the glads on the porch after cleaning up the kitchen, dishwasher humming, to read. Such exalted pleasures on an ordinary day.
Nancy's Simple Chunky Applesauce
Pare, core, and slice four medium apples. (Good cooking apples--a combination of two or more types adds to the layer of flavors.). Combine 1 cup water, 1/4 cup sugar, and LOTS of cinnamon. Be generous with the cinnamon. That my secret. Bring to boiling; cover and cook slowly till tender, about 5 minutes. Makes 2 cups.
An Invitation
I would love to know what turns ordinary days into hallowed and exalted days for you. Try adopting "Every day is a good day" as your mantra and let me know what you discover. I look forward to your comments. Oh, and let me know what your favorite fall recipe is. Cooking is a spiritual practice, too.
