Summer isn’t for introverts.
There’s a lot of extra nerve-jarring noise.
Windows are open and others’ racket steps inside, an unwanted guest.
Cars move faster, outdoor public areas burgeon; it feels like a crowded race to the Let’s Have Fun finish line.
A “super extrovert” I know recently told me how energizing and exciting it is to be around "weekend energy, parties, entertaining friends"; all I could feel for myself was the big drain opening and sucking out the last lifeblood of calm and wellbeing.
Me? I’d rather watch the grass grow.
Inhale long and deeply while the last spring flower’s perfume arrives within me.
Slow walks on the beach, fast walks along green spaces, climbing, hiking, treading water: movement that sustains my bodily life, not diminishes it.
A gentle hand reaching out to steady a stranger, the hug that enwraps a dear friend, hands down on the growing, pulsing, waiting land; these connections sustain emotional life.
Pausing, listening, lying upright with ground as root support and the sky as palette for the imagination; yep, these sustain the inner landscape: creative impulse, spiritual source, connection to the divine.
Deep immersion in a captivating book, working out solutions to a challenge, writing and creating and exploring new landscapes, cultures, opportunities. An introvert can handle these.
I can thrive in the frozen heart of winter.
I can sustain my soul through the first open buds of spring.
Summer – even this I can embrace with some doses of the clamor … as long as a quiet respite is at hand when I need it.
But autumn? I’m gearing up for it. This is the true season of my being.
