A Solstice Blessing

For everyone who is tired of being strong

Last week, one of the sunflowers growing in the backyard snapped in half. Maybe a squirrel tried to climb her, maybe a tree branch fell on her, but however it happened, the stalk was nearly torn through when I found it. The top of the plant - flower bud still green and full of potential - hung down at the ground lifelessly.

Within a second of noticing the break, I had already processed the fact that this particular sunflower was gone. I sent some condolences her way, felt quietly gratified by the dozen or so other sunflowers still standing tall, and moved on, leaving her to die and decay naturally. She would make a nice meal for some bugs, at least.

But this week, I walked outside and noticed the plant had changed shape. The top hooked upwards. A sturdy “U” shaped joint had formed in the nearly severed stalk to hold the flower bud, once again, towards the sun.

As impressed as I am by the persistence shown here, as stunned as I am by the energy it must have required, as envious as I am of the core strength on display, I think my favorite thing about this funky looking sunflower is the knowledge that she didn’t keep going because she felt like she had to. There was no ego and no obligation here. She didn’t keep growing because she owed the world resilience. She didn’t keep growing because it would have been a failure to just take the loss and quietly die.

She kept growing because some deep part of her yearns to face the sun. And because it feels natural and right to honor that desire. Because looking towards the light is what the whole of her being craves, and doing what it takes to answer that craving - no matter how much effort required - is vastly preferable to the effort that would be required to suppress it.

Today we all stand at the precipice of a new season. Whether you’re stepping into summer or winter, a chapter stretches out before you blankly, waiting to be filled with your intentions and hopes and happenings and stories. And, a chapter is lying behind you. One that maybe left you feeling like our sunflower last week. Like all the growth you’d accomplished, all the height you’d acheived, all the progress you’d made towards (finally, FINALLY) blooming had been unceremoniously snapped. Leaving you…not even back at square one, but behind square one, at even more of a disadvantage. With yet another wound to lick.

You are under no obligation to keep going and try again. If you just spent this season extending sympathy and softness towards yourself, it would be time well spent. That choice would be sacred and strong, too.

And. If and when you do decide it is time to grow again, I hope you do so simply because you know you deserve to feel the sunshine on your face.

I hope each of us spends this next season expanding into previously uncharted corners of ourselves and our stories. And I hope we create that expansion from a place of delight. May we turn in our commitment to being what’s expected - or performing what’s been deemed valuable - and exchange it for a commitment to honoring our soul’s deepest cravings. To doing whatever it takes to experience all the joy we can’t stop dreaming about. To letting our natural instincts lead the way, and seeing how brave and strong they really are, even without us trying.

Tonight (Thursday, June 20th) at 7pm central I’m leading a workshop via Zoom that will guide us through the creation of our “glossary of delight”…a personalized guide to identifying what it is your heart is yearning for, and a map towards actually experiencing it. This workshop kicks off the Week of Delight, 7 days of virtual workshops and emailed prompts (crafted by

Giselle Buchanan

and me) to help us resource wonder and presence in our current everyday life.

We’re beginning this new season the way we’d like to continue…by orienting towards the light.

If that sounds like what you need, this is your last call to join!! Sign ups will close around 6pm central today (June 20th), and a replay of tonight’s workshop will be emailed out this evening if you can’t join us live.

Whether you’re meeting this solstice feeling like the sunflower of last week - snapped, dejected, disappointed - or the sunflower of this week - hopeful, capable, full of life - please know you are so important, so likeable, so correct, exactly as you are.

I hope the season that is ahead of you proves that to you, over and over again.