You Can't Rush The Sky

Hello, my friend.

Thank you for opening this letter. I hope it becomes a small ritual between us. No agenda. No checklist. Just a few quiet minutes together.

Lately, I've been returning to the same question.

How do we come home to ourselves?

I don't have one answer. I only know I've been paying closer attention lately. I'd love to share a few things I've been noticing. 

It's monsoon season here, which has always been my favorite time of year. I wonder if that's because I grew up in Vero Beach, Florida, where summer thunderstorms arrived with such regularity you could almost set your watch by them.

Around three o'clock, those endless blue skies would begin to change. Puffy white clouds would rise higher and higher until they swallowed the sun. The afternoon would slowly turn gray, then almost black, and everyone knew what was coming.

The rain would absolutely pour. We'd wait it out, and an hour or two later, the storm would be gone. The puddles were everywhere, the air smelled fresh, and by evening the sky was clear again, ready for another spectacular Florida sunset and a night full of stars.

I didn't know it then, but I think that's when I fell in love with watching the sky. Sedona's storms are different, but they stir up that same feeling in me. You can smell the rain before it arrives. The red rocks become darker, richer, almost glowing against the clouds. I've watched storms roll across these cliffs hundreds of times now. They still stop me in my tracks. Every year, they remind me of the same thing.

You can't rush the sky. I'm not very good at waiting. I like a plan. I like checking things off a list. But every summer, the sky reminds me that some things happen exactly when they're supposed to, whether I'm ready or not.

The other afternoon, I caught myself standing at the window, waiting for it to rain. I had things I wanted to get done outside. I kept looking at the clouds, almost willing them to hurry up. They didn't. Eventually, I gave up, went about my afternoon, and stopped checking.

When the rain finally came, I walked out onto the deck anyway. I just stood there listening to it hit the trees and breathing in that rain smell I've loved since I was a little girl in Florida. Nothing on my to-do list got finished that afternoon. And honestly? It was one of the best hours I've had in weeks.

I've been trying something lately, and maybe you'd like to try it too. Just once today, stop for one full breath. Not while you're checking your phone. Not while you're thinking about what comes next. Just plant your feet on the floor. Take one slow breath in. One slow breath out. That's it.

It's amazing how often one real breath is enough to interrupt the feeling that we always have to be doing something.

If you're feeling overheated too, here's one small kindness.

Pour yourself a tall glass of cold water and add a few slices of cucumber, a little mint, or whatever makes it feel like you're taking care of yourself instead of simply getting through the day.

In Ayurveda, late summer is considered a fiery season. I like that idea because it reminds me that sometimes we don't need to fix ourselves. Sometimes we just need to cool off.

And if you happen to be in Sedona this month, do yourself a favor. The next time a storm rolls in, don't chase it. Find a covered porch. Make yourself a cup of tea. Sit somewhere dry where you can watch the clouds drift across the red rocks. It's one of my favorite ways to spend an afternoon. The sky does all the entertaining.

 I've been wondering...

What have you been trying to rush lately?

Maybe it's a decision.

A season of life.

Healing.

A dream.

Or maybe, like me, you've been looking out the window, asking the clouds to hurry. If something comes to mind, I'd love to hear about it. Just hit Reply. I really do read every message.

Thank you for spending a little time with me today.

With love from Sedona,

Elle