Wellness books and self-care social media accounts often stress the importance of “living in the moment.” But, what if you’re just not that into the current moment? How do you approach things more positively? Journalist Olivia Herken has been thinking about this a lot lately, specifically when it comes to her least favorite month: August.
(This story was originally published on Olivia Herken’s blog, The Living Room.)
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I usually think of August with disdain. It has long been my least favorite month — a hot, muggy 31 days standing between me and my favorite time of year.
Everyone has their season and mine has always been autumn, and I have to admit that each year I sit around and wait for summer to end. I love the crisp, comforting, spiced nostalgic feeling of fall, and usually around the Fourth of July, I start counting down the days. I look at store catalogs for new fall items. I start putting cinnamon in my coffee and pulling out sweaters that have sat in the back of my closet for months. I plot my Halloween costume and my birthday festivities. I dream of apples and pies and long walks down leaf-covered paths.
Fall is the season when I truly come alive. But in my waiting for September each year, I often forget that I’m alive in August, too.
I’ve been trying to work on being more present in life, and part of that is embracing the here and now. Too often I find myself rushing through one stage of life because I can’t wait for the next one to begin, or moving through life catatonically until I get to a place that feels more comfortable, more joyous. We all do it. We tell ourselves to just push through because soon, it will all be perfect and that’s when we can really start living.
I’ll make more of an effort with my friends if I just fix these few things about myself.
If I lose 15 pounds I’ll finally like who I am.
I can’t enjoy this movie until I’ve cleaned the entire house, answered every email and lit a candle that matches the mood perfectly.
Once I become an expert on this topic then I’ll chime in on the conversation.
If I transform myself overnight then I will be happier.
And while we wait, we miss out on valuable time. Even if they’re not our favorite stages of life, they have merit, too, and lessons to be learned, and joy to be felt.
Why do we do that? Why do I wait for autumn to start enjoying my days?
I’ve decided that it might be better to savor every day we have, hot or cold, perfect or flawed. So in an effort to be more present, I’m going to be intentional in romanticizing this time of year and relishing in each sweaty moment. I am making a promise this year to appreciate August, which is usually my least favorite month, but has more beauty in it that I’ve let myself see before.
August, you are when sunflowers (my boyfriend’s favorite) come into full bloom and when the wildflowers are heavy with bees and butterflies. You are when the blossoms on my pumpkin vine start turning into melons. You are when the sumac sets ablaze and the aster bursts with purple.
You are a sweet, hazy few weeks people spend soaking up the last few moments of summer freedom. You feel like one last jump off the dock into the lake or a final coast on your bike down the hill just before nightfall. The last few times I’ll be able to slip on a pair of sandals and run out the door for errands. The last time I may see or hear a certain bird before it flies south for winter, or the last moments I’ll get on the porch swing for another season.
In August, back-to-school supplies line the shelves of stores and that smell of new backpacks and pencils fills the air again. The city swells with eager college students. It’s a time for organization, for strategy. One big collective breath before the hustle and bustle begins again.
This August, I’ll camp out in my dad’s backyard with my siblings. I’ll see Hootie & the Blowfish. I’ll have a sleepover with my nieces and nephews before they go back to school. I’ll do crafts with my friends and watch good shows, and take slow walks along the lake that will be covered with ice and snow before we know it.
People I care about were born in August. We’ll have a blue moon this August. Peppers and squash and green beans and blueberries will be their tastiest in August. I can listen to Taylor Swift’s song “August” on repeat with meaning. I get good mileage on my coasters in August. Did you know that the word “august” means respected and admired? I didn’t know that. August is full of shades of blues and oranges and purples. We’ll have five Fridays this August.
Fireflies still dance outside my window in August. Lemonade still hits the spot in August. The trees are at their fullest in August. August is sticky with heat, but also with ice cream cones dripping down my elbow. The days grow softer and shorter in August. August is someone else’s favorite month.
August is not my enemy, but the opening act. The rehearsals, the building of sets and folding of programs, the sweeping in between the aisles, the lighting check. Without it, the show can’t go on.
I want to admire myself in that same way. I don’t want to wait to love myself or my life until it is perfect, until I feel like I have nothing left to fix, because that day will never come. And even if I come close to it, August will always come back around. I want to love myself in every phase, in every season.
And to do that, I’m going to start by loving August.
