Almost like the New Year, Labor Day now marks a time to look forward and back. It is a time to note what was accomplished and what was left not done. For me, as with the New Year, I find myself filled with resolutions for what is to come.
As festival season wraps up, there is a thirst in me that cannot seem to be slaked. I find myself enjoying an abundance of good summer memories and yet contemplating all that was missed. As May Sarton says, there are the images, but they are somehow estranged by time.
The first "missed" item is the wonder of nature as it exists here in Laguna.
Of course, I have been sitting in nature all summer in the form of the beautiful grounds of the Sawdust Art Festival, but it is just not the same. It is, first of all, not the glorious experience of alone time in nature.
After all, the festival experienced increased attendance this year, and I was constantly surrounded by a bustle of humans.
The festival season is good for our town and yet we all look forward to this time when it ends. What I now resolve to enjoy before the season changes and the days shorten is time for the long vista, the solo contemplation.
I am called to sit beneath a tree and look out across the canyon as the early evening light moves and casts an orange glow on the green. I look forward to the cool evening breezes across my skin and the loud call of crows to their brethren as the days end.
There is a longing to walk along the beach with scurrying shorebirds just past dawn, gentle waves lapping at my feet, the occasional castoff sea glass beckoning. The joy of isolation on the sand, often shrouded by morning fog, is one of the blessings that I seek in the slower time of fall that is coming.
Oh sure, for a while, I will miss the clang of the trolleys, the buzz of the crowds and the bustle of focused intention as each day begins. I doubt, though, it will take long to revert to the enjoyment of silence or of leisurely time spent with friends and family.