At 2:24am on Sunday, June 21st, a little over an hour before sunrise, Colorado experienced the summer solstice. Thus began the longest day of the year in the northern hemisphere, almost 15 hours of sunlight in total.

I’ve always found the solstices a potent time to reflect. That tipping point moment between spring and summer feels like being at the top of a roller coaster or the highest point of a swing’s arc, a brief subtle suspension between up and down. Between days elongating and days shortening. Between light and dark. Between seasons. Although I’m seldom aware of it at the exact moment (no, I was not awake at 2:24am on Sunday morning!), I wonder: what if we could stretch out that breath of between-ness, hold ourselves in the spaciousness of change long enough to pay attention to what this time means for us this year? Right now. Right here. In this moment. We won’t ever experience this moment of turning again.

What does this summer solstice mean to you?

I invite you to take advantage of this astronomical event to engage with wonder, to reflect on what this season/this moment means to you.

Here are some questions that could jump start your wondering:

What is it like for you to be in so much light?

Dazzling? Overexposed? Rejuvenating? Vulnerable?

What aspects of your life are you holding in the light, allowing them to be seen fully? What aspects would you rather keep in the shadows?

What aspects of your life could use more time in the light, might want to be seen or recognized more?

Which aspects of yourself do you feel comfortable allowing others to see? Which are less comfortable?

For some of us summer is a time of play, fun and energy. We feel the aliveness of the world bathed in so much light. We dance. We fall-in-love. We adventure. We explore. We’re open to new possibilities.

For others of us, summer can feel exhausting. We find our energy pulled in so many directions with the extended daylight. We find it harder to rest. We might feel overly exposed in the heat of it all.

Some of us spend so much time indoors and on screens that we hardly notice the change of season at all, although beneath the surface our mammal bodies can feel the difference.

Regardless of how we relate to summer, the solstice can be a time to pause and notice change that may have happened so slowly that we didn’t even clock that it was there. The flowers blooming. The trees green. The grass green and then brown again (at least in Colorado!). The increase in park-hang-out invitations. The personal work of letting ourselves be seen creating more ease than last year. The relationship change. The cactus flowers. The child a year older.

When you pause, what do you notice this summer?

Where has change snuck up on you?

How do you want to be with what you’ve discovered?

In this hurried world, I invite you (perhaps even implore you!) to use the solstice as a moment to pause, whether this week or anytime this summer, giving yourself space to truly see what is illuminated by the light.

Summer Solstice: Relating to the Light

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