June 1 and though I know June follows May, I am often bewildered when it does arrive.

June, is the mid-way point of the year. We are in the last weeks of Spring. Summer isn’t official until June 20th this year. And just as I do in December, I look back over the last few weeks of Autumn and ponder what I’ve done and who I’ve become, I’m here on the cusp of Summer and thinking the same thing.

Mid-Year Course Correction

Finals are over. I worked hard all semester and am taking a much needed pause before Summer Starts.  I’ve come to the solitude, the heat, the silence, of the desert.

I’m here for the healing. I’ve got new art supplies, face masks and serums, bath salts, two new-to-me books from the Little Lending Library, and lots of leafy greens. I’m ready.

Or so I think. 

I’ve bopped around the space, aimless. What am I doing here?

What am I doing?

I take out my Passion Planner from my bag, look over the last few months – mostly empty save for a few dentist appointments and major project due dates. 

The rest of the year rolls out as sparse as these dunes. A few dates are filled in: Thing One and Thing Two’s 8th Grade Promotion, Father’s Day, a trip to Disney, River Rafting. 

That’s all external. Those are things. Doing. Busy.

But something else lives under the surface of that doing, just as in the heat of the desert life stirs. That thing stirs and wonders. It wants to stretch and explore. It asks the questions: What else? What if?

I made some adjustments this semester: I didn’t take as many classes because I needed exercise more. I’ll still end up in the same spot, starting the Master program in January 2022. 

I didn’t need to overextend myself this semester. I almost said kill myself, but I don’t say things like that anymore having come close to death. I took the classes I needed, classes I wanted, and still had time to walk our Norwegian Elkhound, Maeve, at Fiesta Island a few times a week. I met friends for walks, enjoyed BBQs at my parents’ house. I got fresh air and sunshine. I grew in strength.

But without the focus of classes, assignment, and projects I feel unmoored.

So I try some plans on for size. 

I’d like to visit both sides of my family in Mexico. We are all vaccinated now. I’d like to take The Things to meet my Dad’s side of the family. I’d like to go with my Dad so he can walk us through his village, tell us stories about the people he knew, the places he went, and the things he did. My Father will be 80 next year. The time to do it is now. 

But is it safe for me to travel? Even with the vaccine, it’s possible I’m still at risk, my immunity compromised by the cancer treatments of last year. But after everything that happened last year, the desire to travel feels urgent and necessary. 

Is it?

I want to start training for the runDisney Dopey Challenge. It’s been a dream of mine for years. I’d like to run it in conjunction with the advent of my 50th Year in December. But runDisney hasn’t released any information. I’ll be starting from scratch. I haven’t run since B.C. – Before Cancer, Before Chemo, Before COVID. I’d like the Things to run the 5K and the 10K with me. I’d like to have that as a goal. I’ll only be 50 once. I want to do this. 

Is it possible?

I need to earn some money. God willing, I’ll start my Masters program in January of 2022 and it’s not going to pay for itself. I’ve thought of working part-time at Target or Old Navy. I’m sure I could get promoted quickly. But then I think I could restart my Arbonne business. After so  many years of being a business owner, I would rather work for myself.

Should I?

And my writing? My book? I started the book B.C. and left it. I restarted in April, right around mid-terms when the projects got more intense. I write every day, just not toward the story. The story feels like it’s pulling away from me like the wisps of a dream when morning . I could spend this month contemplating The Universe and return to the story in July.

Can I?

I have an appointment with my oncologist this month. Just a check in. Just in case. 

It feels like baiting the devil to make plans. Something could happen. 

But something can always happen, I reason with my Lizard brain. And nothing is happening right now. I am safe. I can make choices. I choose to breath. 

The concerns stir, too. Concerns mingle with hope like desert creatures: rabbits and vipers, owls and mice. 

I’ve got to remember to let the light stream over both to concerns and the hopes, illuminating the path, not letting my lizard mind mistake sticks for sidewinders. 

Everything waits for me. Everything I was and want is there for the choosing. Still as the desert that stirs with life. 

I flip the pages of my planner, vast with possibility. I use pencil on some dates, just in case. 

Just in case I can.