Summer soulstice

An epitaph:

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Here lies Sarah's enthusiasm for life.
Estimated time of death: 10:54 a.m., Central Daylight Time, June 21, 2019.

Being the Gollum-esque, perpetual being of darkness that I am, it should come as no surprise that the sunniest day of the year sends me crawling  back into my cold, dark cave. 

It's not due to lack of familiarity. I was born into the heat of summer, naked and screaming, in the humid, tornado-stricken bowels of Kansas. My experience has borne out that summer brings with it three things:  oppressive humidity, sweat, and chafing. It's not a time for celebration; it is a time to retreat into my temperature-controlled sanctuary, removed from the bright, moist  reality outside.

A vignette: I'm 1 year old. My dad begins to place my tiny, infant feet on the lush grass of our yard, and I curl in on myself like a hedgehog, as far away from that menacing green as possible. It's all on video, my transformation into a tiny, tense, shrieking mass of rage at the mere suggestion of the outdoors.

What I'm trying to say is that my aversion to the season is innate. What's summer's version of the Grinch? That's me, only less fuzzy and with far less agreeable furry sidekicks. Picture, if you will, a sallow-skinned hag, huddled behind room-darkening shades, who would prefer if the little screaming goblins outside running through sprinklers and chasing each other with Super-Soakers would shut the fuck up so I can hibernate in peace.

Perhaps, in retrospect, it was a poor choice to start a new project at the beginning of my least favorite season of the entire year, the time when I'm least likely to be productive and most likely to binge-watch old Vine compilations on YouTube for 5 hours straight. 

But I set a New Year's intention for 2019 - conceived at the new moon, sealed in flame - to grow as a person this year. And so here I go, dragging my bleating motivation into the sunlight by its sweaty scruff.

Against all of my instincts, I'm determined to make meaning out of this day, the longest day in an already seemingly endless year. I could attend a ritual, but that sounds like a lot of work. I could bask in the warmth of the close-up sun, but that would most likely involve going outside, and I cannot emphasize enough how much I hate sweating.

But what is a ritual, really, besides an opportunity to reflect and set intentions for future growth? Whether it's alone before a candle or at a gathering of like-minded people who want to effect change? Maybe it can even happen in front of a computer screen, throwing out words into the void of the internet to who or whatever might be listening.

I drew an Oracle card this morning for guidance. Here's what it gave me:

I think I can work with this; I've been looking at summer as a time when the sun obliterates the shade, but that's not how it works, is it?

Here's my intention for the season I hate: embrace both the light and the dark. I can still dream in the daylight; I will focus on positive thinking and proactive planning. I will take action to achieve the outcomes I want, and I will strive to bring a little more light into a dark world. But I know well that not all darkness is bad, and when the heat and the light get oppressive, I know that I can find rest in the shade, and I must not forget that I do some of my best work in the witching hour.
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With more light comes more shadow, and in the shadows I thrive.