Stepping into my comfort zone
a farewell to summer
I first read The Count of Monte Cristo as a pre-teen and if memory doesn’t fail me (as it often does) that was the first time I came across the concept of exile. The idea that one could be separated from all that is familiar, and find refuge in solitude. This I believe to have dug a doubt so deep inside my chest that, at twenty-four, I still wonder who I could have become had it not been for the mark of others in my life. Had I devoted my life to the land that feeds me, let my days be governed by the weather, and learnt only the language of flowers.
This summer, to celebrate my near-mid twenties, I got to experience an infinitely lavisher version of life as a hermit, and this poem came out of it.
what awards this season my infinite praise
isn’t the weather, the blazing heat kissing my shoulders, the endless nights and sleepy mornings
it is the absence of frustration
the silence I cherish in my mind even when the lights are on, the birds are chirping and Seu Jorge sings yet another samba
it is the sweet melancholy of every sunset, made sweeter unironically by the sea-salt
only in the month of July
when nothing breaks the silence in my soul
when the broken world loses its grip on my heart and no bleakness will crush my spirit
in the month of July, when my year turns once more, I investigate my face for new evidence of the days that have passed, I look at time and ask for mercy
I look at each day’s ordinary beauty and beg for time
only in the month of July, do I get to live like those who dream.
Now that the temperature begins to drop, and I feel the instinct to nestle into the warmth of home, I reflect on what this sunny season has taught me and feel inclined to share my melancholic musings with you.
A comforting thought I revisit often is that Jesus had a special fondness for summer because of how God’s creation came alive. A time when he could stop to smell the roses and observe the abundance of God’s power right down to the finest detail. I believe that God gave us summer to lighten the weight of our sorrows, and to serve as a reminder that deliverance is brought to us in many shapes - at times like an all-encompassing fire, others like the infinitely absorbing beauty of the moonlight shining on a calm river.
Psalm 126:1 When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.
This autumn, my weary heart prays for the latter. Living between England and Brazil over the past 6 years had me moving around every 6 months, and although I am thankful for the expansion of my mind, and consequently, of my heart that these years have given me, I mourn the woman I once was — not so chronically stressed, emotionally exhausted or medicated.
And because home, for me, is a small town on the coast of Bahia, with a population that’s just under 2% of London’s, I’m giving this season one last stretch to take control of my well-being and step into my comfort zone.
A week from today, I’ll be taking the overnight flight from Heathrow once again, with the heaviest of hearts, in an effort to lighten my spirit. Here are a few cosy plans I’ve made and am looking forward to this September:
Crocheting a book bag. I’m learning just how quickly we can go from having absolutely no idea what we’re doing to having learnt a new skill and feeling all the better for it. Now that I’ve completed my first project (a pet radish) to the best of my limited abilities, I plan on crocheting a handbag to carry my books and finally retiring my tired tote.
Reading and reviewing translated Brazilian literature. Having spent this year’s Women in Translation month just trying to keep myself from running into oncoming traffic, my literary goals were put on the back burner. I plan to redeem myself by dedicating September to translated fiction by brilliant Brazilian authors. It pains me how little of their work is available in English, and I want to help bring more visibility — starting with our most adored novelist, Clarice Lispector. I'll be reading The Passion According to G.H.
Healing through community. Growing up, I found solace and joy in the company of family, laughing, weeping, and sharing stories over delicious food prepared by the loving hands of the women in my life. My early twenties, however, have been a tapestry of solitude, loss, and betrayal, served with instant noodles. As I spend this time back home with my family, under the blessing of our table fellowship, I hope to rekindle hope in the shadowy corners of my spirit.
Thank you for lending an ear, wishing you the loveliest autumn. Until next time.
Isaiah 43:19 Behold, I am about to do something new; even now it is coming. Do you not see it? Indeed, I will make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.