Delicate Returns
I spotted Queen Anne’s lace this week beside an old shed and stopped to take a picture.
Years ago, I would have picked a bunch.
As a teenager, I’d ride my bike to a nearby field, never thinking about who owned the land. I’d gather wildflowers, take them home, trim their stems, and arrange them in a vase. Queen Anne’s lace was always my favorite. There was something about its delicate white blossoms that drew me back every summer.
I’m not so quick to pick them anymore.
Now, every July, I find myself quietly looking for Queen Anne’s lace along roadsides and fields. Seeing it where it belongs is enough.
Sometimes I take a picture.
Sometimes I simply smile, silently saying, “Hello again.”
July returns more than wildflowers.
July always brings me back to the summer of 2010, when I spent a month at Kripalu studying to become a yoga teacher. It was a dream I had for years. My children were finally old enough for me to step away, and for one month we each had our own adventure. My daughter was away on a sailing trip. My son stayed home alone for the first time and painted the outside of our house, in exchange for the hefty rent that went to him instead of the landlord. And I immersed myself in yoga.
It wasn’t simply a training. It was a way of living that felt deeply familiar, as though I had returned to a language my body already understood.
Years before the training, yoga was part of my mornings. On the days I skipped it, I often noticed by mid-afternoon. I felt tired, short-fused, maybe reaching for another cup of coffee, and then I’d remember: You didn’t do yoga this morning.
Lately I’ve resisted returning to that practice. I’d rather linger over another cup and write.
Perhaps that’s what returning looks like now. I no longer gather the flowers. Finding them each July is enough.
Returning to my yoga practice after a long hiatus feels much the same—like an old friend welcoming me back without judgment or disappointment. And I know it will again. I’m still grabbing that second cup instead of my yoga mat.
Every year as July arrives, I’m reminded of my month at Kripalu and my children’s growing independence. By the end of the month, I’m looking for the first Queen Anne’s lace.
July has woven them all together.
Author’s Note:
One of the songs we often heard during my teacher training at Kripalu was Returning by Jennifer Berezan. I’m reminded of it now.
If you’d like to listen, here’s a link to one of the most soothing pieces of music I know.
Comments