Summer is a time for taking journeys. It’s a popular time for packing up, hitting the road, and going someplace.

It’s especially joyful to travel in the summer of 2021. A year ago, our freedom to rove, to see family and friends, to have adventures, was severely restricted by the very real threat of contracting or spreading the potentially deadly COVID-19 virus.

While we’re still not out of the woods, many are feeling free to journey, to physically go someplace again.

But for me, summer also means taking time for inner journeys. Living in South Florida, late July means being drawn like a magnet to the blazing sun, dropping everything to go to the beach. Even if it’s just for 15 or 20 minutes, I float on my back in 80 degree turquoise water.

After a shower, then I’m ready. The rest of the afternoon is devoted to going through closets, bookshleves, boxes, and cabinets–cleaning, clearing, reflecting. I encounter who I’ve been, what I’ve forgotten, and what it’s time to let go of.

Some afternoons storms roll in, and instead of the beach, I sit on the front porch. Leaning against the warm adobe of the house, I let the wind blow rain on my face, arms, and legs.

Other afternoons I’m led to another time and place, another life, by a great book. I take siesta. I slow down. And when there’s enough space, I’m able to tell my own story.

Weeding through the people, places, and events, I look for the trails beneath the overgrowth, the lasting marks–the seeds I’ve scattered. The flowers I’ve planted. I remember that I’m an unlimited spiritual being having a limited human experience. I explore the merits of the journey, asses whether or not I’ve grown spiritually.

I go back to the beginning, chart the key destinations, savor the highlights, handle artifacts from pilgrimages. I stand at the back door of where I am and smile at the distances I’ve traveled. I gather memories of peace, connection, contentment, joy. I nod to my mentors, sages, role models, teachers, and sources of inspiration. I savor the friendships, the temples, the homes, the places of worship. I handle the books. Sing songs. Remember old practices.

Grateful for all of it, embarrassed and even ashamed by some of it, I let the feelings come. Sadness. Regret. Longing. Celebration. Weeding out, holding on to the fruits and flowers, I see more clearly where I am. It’s like standing in the ocean at midday. Water is glass and the horizon is forever.

Join me here. Take this inner journey. Reflect. Savor. Fill up your heart with the absolute wonder of you–spirit contained in a human vessel. Accept the gift of time the solstice grants every living being. Your soul has been waiting for it. Radiance illuminates the path all around you. Open up. Enter in.

-July 12, 2021