selah.

Just as autumn settles into motion, I find myself catching my breath at the last of summer. Summer came and went, and with it the memories of a season filled with gratitude and space of being. There is an unbearable heaviness in the air of all the things to come. Anxiety comes back in the shape of old worn gloves, as anticipation of what is to come.

Hope endures always, and with the changing of the seasons, I find myself making space for more intentionality in rest, and routine. Off-balanced as the past month and a half has been, I am glad that equilibrium has returned, slowly but surely. I would be lying if I said I was hopeful at what October and November will bring. A trip to visit an old and dear friend anchors me in the promise and assurance of rest, but getting to Thanksgiving weekend seems a task greater than I can envision for myself now.

I have learnt to sit in my feelings, and this week, I am reminded that dichotomies of opposites can exist in tension, and from that growth endures. My mind and body has been put through spaces it has long forgotten, but continues in courage to find itself, hopefully with a little more grace this time than the last. Routine becomes privilege, and peace, a point of pride. Regardless of what is to come and what has gone, I will be content in the now, not idle but expectant. That is always the struggle at the turn of the tide, where busy eases into routine. Ebbs and flow will naturally come, my life will run its race, and in time, everything will fall into place. I remind myself now more than ever, to catch my breath, and find my selah, even if it is a minute or thirty seconds of a day.