A good friend and I were recently talking about how August feels like a much better month to write resolutions and reflect on the year. Not January. Not the cold, early weeks when everything feels slow and sluggish. Writing resolutions in January, for me, feels like rolling out of bed to a still dark sky and forcing my shoulders into a hoodie so I can go for a run because I should run not because I actually want to.
But August. This is when I want to run. This is when I want to reflect, to recenter myself, to get up early and watch the sun break the sky. August is when the air is warm and the camp chairs are broken in. The sand grains litter your hardwood floor and your nightstand is stacked with dog-eared library books, with sunscreen-stained journals. You have time to think. To nap and dream and read at leisure. The long days offer more space, more play, and more energy. It only feels fitting then that the end of summer would actually be the beginning of a new year.
I made a big cha…
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