August is nearly over. It has been a glorious month. It's been an odd summer. Last year I did a lot of biking all summer. I wanted to be out earlier this summer, but May was freezing, June was windy and filled with the Wisconsin Conference Annual Meeting, winding up my work as Association Minister, and closing my office. July was scorching hot - weeks of 100+ degree weather or rain. Lots of rain. Heat and rain. Rain and heat. It was not good biking weather. It was good whining weather, and I'm sure I did some of that.
But August. Ah, August.
It has been gorgeous. I've been biking, mowing my lawn, cooking and eating on the deck which I powerwashed and have kept lovely. Glasses of wine and old TV shows on the iPad from Netflix. It has been slow and relaxed, for the most part - an ideal transition from nine years of Conference work into this new phase of my life as a self-employed coach.
I'm trying to lay some groundwork for my coaching practice. I've done a workshop and plan to do more. I've continued to coach my clients, and I long to do more. I love coaching. I love getting in there and working with people at the change-points of their lives. I love knowing that the work we do together makes a difference, often an immediate and long-lasting one.
I hold a belief that we all have to potential to be as magnificent and glorious as this August weather. Neither witheringly hot nor stormily blustering, but steady and clear and brilliant as these mid-70-degree sunny days
In places like Southern California, I'm told most of the days are like that. They aren't in Wisconsin. In Wisconsin, we have to cherish them and take full advantage of their magnificence. We'll have to do the same with the blazing beauty of October and the crisp, cold brilliance of January. And then we have to learn to love the fallow times, as Judy Collins sings. And through it all, we can tap the magnificence within us that just is, regardless of external conditions.
The last lines of Robert Frost's poem "Tree at My Window" run through my mind:
That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.
May your inner weather blaze with glorious brilliance.
But August. Ah, August.
It has been gorgeous. I've been biking, mowing my lawn, cooking and eating on the deck which I powerwashed and have kept lovely. Glasses of wine and old TV shows on the iPad from Netflix. It has been slow and relaxed, for the most part - an ideal transition from nine years of Conference work into this new phase of my life as a self-employed coach.
I'm trying to lay some groundwork for my coaching practice. I've done a workshop and plan to do more. I've continued to coach my clients, and I long to do more. I love coaching. I love getting in there and working with people at the change-points of their lives. I love knowing that the work we do together makes a difference, often an immediate and long-lasting one.
I hold a belief that we all have to potential to be as magnificent and glorious as this August weather. Neither witheringly hot nor stormily blustering, but steady and clear and brilliant as these mid-70-degree sunny days
In places like Southern California, I'm told most of the days are like that. They aren't in Wisconsin. In Wisconsin, we have to cherish them and take full advantage of their magnificence. We'll have to do the same with the blazing beauty of October and the crisp, cold brilliance of January. And then we have to learn to love the fallow times, as Judy Collins sings. And through it all, we can tap the magnificence within us that just is, regardless of external conditions.
The last lines of Robert Frost's poem "Tree at My Window" run through my mind:
That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.
May your inner weather blaze with glorious brilliance.
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