November Notes: Reflections on Light and Community
Every November when the clocks turn back I begin to feel a bit of tension arise between my body and my mind. My body, sensing the seemingly sudden lack of daylight, (despite the fact that the hours have slowly been diminishing since June,) starts to feel restless. If I don’t manage to get myself outside for a few days, I start to feel a tightness take over, a clenching of the jaw, a hunching of my spine. I begin to regret all those moments (imagined or actual) that have passed when I could have so easily set aside work, or simply stopped scrolling for a bit, in order to enjoy an evening stroll or to have headed upstate and scouted out that other hike. It’s almost a retroactive fear of having missed out on something amazing, a kicking myself for not making the most of the recent past.
Counter to this, is a pull to the indoors, which comes on slowly and almost unrecognizably year after year. As the sun’s hours get shorter, my mind begins to be drawn to all sorts of ideas around all of the things I will now have time to do with more time spent at home. The shorter days are the perfect excuse to stay inside and say fuck it to whatever it is I feared I’d be missing out on – I’m on the brink of making profound leaps in my self-care routine. I’ll finally able to shut out the outside noise and really settle into my creative endeavors. This promise of no distractions nearly makes me giddy.
But I’m walking a tightrope…the more my desire to hole up and perfect all the things in my life that I think could use a tweak, the less work I end up actually doing. The goals of re-emerging in the Spring with complete clarity and understanding, with an event schedule planned out 6-months in advance and 20 completed podcasts in the can, prove to be too lofty. I find that the more time I spend alone, the more disconnected I get from the reasons behind my creative endeavors and I begin to burn out fast.
If last weekend’s Presidential-Election-Results-Spontaneous-Dance-Party in the streets of Brooklyn taught me anything, it’s that I thrive with a community around me. Seeing others letting loose (while safely masked, of course) reinforced the truth that connections do matter. It helped remind me that the desire to serve my community, by helping others meet their outdoor goals, is what really sparks my creativity.
This November, I am especially thankful we have this time for reflection. Thankful to be able to continue to forge ahead toward that elusive life balance. Thankful to be slowing down from a summer full of outside light and activity so I can begin again to stoke those inner fires that keep me going and help guide my way forward, so I can better serve you, dear hikers.