As most of those who know me know, summer is not my favorite season. Summer is not “energetically” my time. I don’t like hot weather, I can’t take direct sun, I don’t like humidity, and I don’t like air conditioning. But, air conditioning is a necessary evil or I won’t be able to breath because of toxic pollen. Air conditioning cuts the noise from outside, too. Have you ever noticed how street noise rises exponentially in the summer?
My friend Rosanne isn’t a summer person either. The first hot days we inevitably skype each other and say, “Is it October yet?” Fall is my favorite season, hands down, and I actually like winter. That being said, last summer at the tender age of 62 I decided I was tired of being miserable for three months out of the year, and asked my guides how to get through June, July, and August with a modicum of grace, ease, and good humor. I am a sane, conscious, grown-up woman. I am not going to love everything or everybody but there has to be a way to live with what you don’t love, or even particularly like, without that thing sucking the life out of you.
In my meditation I saw a snail. I have seen lions, tigers and bears, oh my. I have seen wolves, eagles, cheetahs, vultures, crows, hawks, bunnies, herons, otters, cobras, butterflies, dragonflies, black widow spiders, etc., but never a snail. The first thought that floated through my mind was eating them in France when I was a small child. The escargot dish would arrive on the restaurant table crackling hot, oozing melted butter, parsley, and garlic. I would pick up my snail tong, spear out the little rubbery looking thing with the snail fork, and eat it. I didn’t really like snails, they tasted like gritty inner tube so I tended to swallow them whole, but I loved the melted butter, parsley, and garlic. There was always a breadbasket of fresh, sliced baguette that you used to sop up the sauce. Bringing my attention back to the snail in my meditation, I apologized for eating her family, and studied the whorl, the sacred spiral, on her shell. There was something very gentle about this little creatura. Fragile as she was, she was quite strong, defying gravity, and crawling straight up a concrete garden wall.
When I came out of the meditation, I went to Wildspeak, my favorite animal energy page. Here is the link: http://www.wildspeak.com/ Ravenari writes that the snail teaches us to “cultivate patience.” She writes, “Knowing how to endure waiting and delay with calmness, without annoyance, is a skill that needs to be gently trained and developed. Let life pass you by.” The words resonated with me. I can’t remember when I didn’t feel that summer was something to be endured, a necessary evil that had to be passed through on the way to fall. The next morning when I went out for my morning run, there was a green ceramic snail in the front garden of my building. My super thought I’d put it there. When I told her I hadn’t she looked confused. Neither one of us knew anything about where the snail came from. Well, I did but I didn't, you know what I mean?
Without fail I have a lot of minutiae work during June and July; the kind of minutiae that goes into building foundation. Painstakingly, slow work that demands that I step back from life, unhook, concentrate, and get it done. While everybody else is rolling out the lazy, hazy, days of summer, I’m inside hard at work. Last summer I was editing my novel, very slowly, page by page, word by word. Editing takes a great deal of thought and focus. There’s a connected groove to the days and you’re in your own little world. This summer I am finishing up the print on demand process (I’ve made every mistake you can possibly make) and organizing the work I’ve done on the Jane Lee’s Book of Door and Sober Witch.
The work demands that I close the door, literally going against the tide of all the fun that summer stands for. Thanks to snail I get it now. I have no problem with opening the door to clients. I love my clients, I love doing readings, healings, house clearings, past-life regressions, magical consults, and parties. I love being an all-purpose witch, but when I’m not doing the work that supports me, I close the door and do the nuts and bolts work of making my dreams come true. Last summer I learned about bringing patience to my projects. I learned to consciously let the world pass me by, without judgement and resentment. What I had to do was get willing to release the "shoulds," in shadow that were calling the shots. The "shoulds" are the voice of the interject and the interject makes its home in the wound(s).
When I emerged in the fall, grateful beyond belief my season was finally here, I was enormously pleased with all I'd accomplished. It wasn't fun, sometimes it felt like slogging through wet cement, but it was of tremendous, tangible benefit. Next right action always is. As I rode my bike to Brookdale Park in the waning light of fall and crisp fresh air I thought about how a particular kind of snail will lie dormant till the weather suits her. "That fits," I said out loud, and started to laugh so hard I scared the man on the sidewalk.
The blue ceramic snail didn’t make it through the winter but her teachings did. The work I’m doing this summer is even more profoundly life-changing than what I did last year. I still don’t like summer but I know how to dance it now and create something lasting and of value. Whether you are a summer person or a winter person, a fall person or a spring person, there will always be a time in your life when the teachings of snail can benefit you beyond your wildest dreams. Cultivating patience and learning to endure the waiting with calmness and without annoyance is a lot like the moment in between the breaths, It takes you out of one way of being and gives you the much needed space for another to take shape; to be born when the weather suits you.
Live loud, love fierce, and suffer no fools. Kat
writings for the soul....writings from the journey...writings for whole being...experience, strength, and hope..of love, by love, for love.