Dog Days

"Await the birth-hour of a new clarity, keeping holy all that befalls, even disappointment, even desertion." Rilke

August is being true to its nickname 'dog days'. This is the time of year when most of the charm of summer has worn off. It's been hot too long, vacations are mostly over, gardens are on their last legs, and the leaves on the trees resemble hound dog ears for most of the day. Even though cooler weather is still weeks away, already there is a longing to move on and leave the summer behind. In the meantime, until the seasons shift and all is transformed, we must remain where we are.

Living in the woods has allowed me to closely watch how the trees change over the course of the year. Their exuberance and vitality as they set their new leaves, produce berries or nuts, house birds and animals, mirrors our own in the lives we lead. But watching them listless in the August heat languishing for Fall or covered with dripping cold in February holding on until Spring, does too. It is not unlike those places where we await our own personal transformations in our jobs and lives or in our hearts and souls. We would like for it to all arrive and make itself known, now, so we could get on with it, but like the trees, we must wait.

I find this Rilke quote comforting for all sorts of dog days and waiting times in life because he is reminding us that the ritual of waiting for clarity and understanding is in itself a holy act, even when it contains hardship. Rilke knew from his own life the wait contained not only the timing but also the alchemy for change. Until that mysterious process can be accomplished, we like our friends the trees, must remain where we are. Perhaps in the waiting we might remember: "Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness, for as much as he loves the arrow which flies swift and far, so does he love, also, the bow which is stable." Kahil Gibran