Happy Lammas! We’re officially into the “dog days” of summer now; long, hot, dry days. The excitement of springtime and early summer has long worn off, I’ve given up weeding because it’s impossible to keep up, and the grass in the yard is as brown as my skin. My teenage daughter sleeps until lunch time every day, and the dog does nothing but lounge about on the back steps. The neighborhood is quiet, and I have few excuses to leave home lately, making my slow, solitary days stretch out before me, punctuated at the end by our family dinner and my evening yoga classes.
Lammas is the first of three harvest holidays on the wheel of the year, and is a day for expressing gratitude for the abundance in your life and contemplating how you’ll continue to nurture the seeds you have planted and reap the benefits of your hard work. In a literal sense, if you are a gardener, this is when you will most likely be trying to decide what in the world you’re going to do with sixteen zucchinis and forty seven cucumbers, not to mention the ten pounds of tomatoes that are about to redden on the vine! In a symbolic sense, August is heavy with the feeling that something is coming to an end; I often feel impatient with myself this time of year because I worry that I haven’t yet crammed enough into the summer. Have I harvested all of the experiences and joy and rest that I will need in order to make it through the long winter? If you are like me and feel the need to take stock, here are three questions you can ask yourself.
What am I harvesting at this time?
Many of you know that I am an avid gardener. I garden for the joy of it, but I also feed my family all winter with what I grow in the summer. August and September mean eight hour days of preserving, canning, freezing, and dehydrating for me. Growing our food is a labor of love, an act of devotion on my part; the joy and satisfaction of serving dinner in January with food I grew in July is worth every minute on my feet in the garden and kitchen. So, in a literal sense, Lammas means I am in my garden for hours every day harvesting herbs and vegetables that will be physical sustenance in the future. The scent of drying herbs and curing onions greets you the moment you step into my house, and mason jars confront you at every turn. I have set up our camp stove in the back yard to avoid heating up the house with my giant canning pot. Galvanized pails of vegetables dominate the countertops.
There are other metaphorical harvests for me right now, as well. When I started Common Yoga, my ultimate goal was to teach four classes per week; in my mind this would equal success. This week I am teaching six classes. I have grown to nearly 160 subscribers to my website, the majority of them yoga students. And while I don’t really measure success via social media, my live streams have gathered 45,000 followers online, widening my audience far beyond the small groups I can fit in my studio at home. I finished my book, which is now being edited. This week I completed my book proposal in preparation to send my manuscript out for publication. I’ve had two call backs from publishing houses. My Teachers Pay Teachers account makes me a passive income, reaping the benefits from seeds planted months ago (I still gasp with joy at each and every sale notification - it never gets old). My physical and mental health has come a long way in the past year. Ailments that made my life fairly miserable before have practically vanished.
What happened to make this harvest possible?
All of this abundance didn’t happen by accident, it wasn’t given to me and it isn’t just a coincidence. I worked my ass off for all of it. I am the one who broke my back shoveling dirt and stone, nearly sweat to death in the greenhouse every day hand-pollinating my plants, dragged hoses and destroyed my knees and fingernails with weeding and pruning. I am the one who stands in the kitchen for hours on end peeling and chopping and stirring. I haul cow shit and chicken shit, my arms are covered in scratches, and not a day goes by that I don't have a cut, a pulled muscle, a burn or a bruise (I won't pretend I don’t love every minute of it, but it’s still hard work). The shocking amount of food I can get out of my own backyard is a result of my time and my energy.
I spend long hours hunched over my computer working on my yoga website, advertising, scheduling and creating class plans. I take online yoga classes, myself, do research, practice and then practice more in order to perfect my craft so I can provide a good service to my students. The studio needs to be cleaned and restocked, the books need doing, and I’ve got several emails to respond to today. The one hour you see me in class has another ten hours behind the scenes attached to it. My practice is both business and personal, and I attribute my overall physical and mental health to my yoga and meditation practice, which is a continued choice and dedication on my part. Again, the harvest I enjoy from my yoga business is a result of my own hard work and decision making. I work even when I’m tired and I don’t feel like it. I drag myself to the studio and the office every single day and ask myself “what can I do today that will fill my next class?”
However, at the end of the day, none of this would be possible if it was just up to me, because I have been given a huge gift that I am not sure I can ever repay. My husband works his ass off to provide for us financially so that I can live this life. A year and a half ago, when I told him that I wanted to try living differently, that I was thinking about helping our family to step out of the system a bit, he didn’t even hesitate to agree, even if it meant taking on the lion’s share of the financial burden for a time. Even now when I consider my business to be mildly successful, I take in a fraction of what he does each week in regards to pay. And he hardly bats an eye. Without a strong partner who has my back and supports me in all of my pursuits, I’d never have the time or energy to do any of this. The man built me a yoga studio, doesn’t make any noise in his own garage several hours each week, drives me to the farm to get loads of compost, and last weekend even stood next to me at the kitchen counter chopping cucumbers all afternoon. My life would be unrecognizable if it weren’t for him.
How can I step into the energy of gratitude?
I think that gratitude comes in many forms. For one, I think that simply pausing daily to appreciate all of my blessings is important. This is a form of mindfulness, paying attention to where your blessings come from and how you got to where you are so that you can increase this abundance again in the future. Expressing gratitude is another way. I say the words to the people who should be hearing them. Tell people you appreciate them and thank them when they help you, and for god’s sake allow the people who care about you to actually help (this is advice for myself, I’m awful at this)!
The third way I can imagine stepping into the energy of gratitude is by being generous and kind, yourself. My husband and I make a practice of doing small kindnesses for one another every single day. This morning he brought my tea while I was still in bed. And then I chased him out the door before he left for work to hand him an apple pie I had baked for him. Whenever I travel I bring home small gifts for my friends, I give away produce and eggs to anyone who needs them, and offer financial assistance to those who wish to take yoga classes but are struggling; I try hard to share my abundance. Sick friends get meals for their families or homemade broth delivered, I’ll water a garden for someone who isn’t home, and send texts of love and encouragement whenever I can. Part of practicing gratitude is giving back to the universe.
Lastly, I think I can practice gratitude by being happy with what I have, and not always striving so hard to have more, be better, change things. My life, through a combination of hard work, good choices, luck, and support from others, is a wonderful life full of blessings and joy. When I am feeling sorry for myself or wishing things were other than what they are, I am not practicing gratitude. We must all strive to both see the truth of the world and accept it with grace and some degree of gratitude if we are to avoid suffering.
I wish you all a bountiful harvest, literally and symbolically, and encourage you to step into the energy of gratitude whenever you possibly can. I am so very grateful for all of you (family, friends, yoga students, and readers) in my life.
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