The water was warm against my skin, and the sun shimmered just enough to remind me it was still summer.
I was in the pool with my daughter, at a friend’s house tucked into the woods.
Kids’ laughter bounced between the trees. Birds trilled from the edge of the forest. The sky arched wide and blue above us.
And I, despite being immersed in this moment, was not really there.
My eyes scanned the water, making sure my daughter stayed afloat even though I knew she could swim and other adults were around. My body was tight. My thoughts were already three weeks ahead.
Back-to-school clothes. Notebooks. Final pediatrician appointments. Lunches and snacks and grocery lists. Was the backpack still in decent shape? What am I forgetting?
My chest was tight and my brow furrowed before I even noticed.
Then I paused.
I breathed.
And I saw it all again. Really saw it.
I was floating in a clear, beautiful pool, surrounded by good people. The trees were rustling gently. My daughter was safe and happy. The sun sparkled across the water like glitter. I had been so busy preparing for life, I almost forgot to live it.
The lists? They’d keep.
I was not going to forget what needed to be done.
But that moment? It was here now, and only now.
So, I chose to soften.
To float.
To listen to the birds and let my heart fill with joy and gratitude.
To catch myself.
And enjoy.
🍂 The Earth Never Rushes
It struck me then how the world around me wasn’t in a hurry.
The trees at the edge of the yard weren’t stressing about September.
The birds weren’t making to-do lists.
The sun didn’t try to shine faster to make up for lost time.
Late summer holds a particular kind of wisdom. It’s a liminal space, not quite the wild freedom of July, not yet the structure of fall.
And in that in-between, we’re invited to listen closely.
To slow down.
To honor our own timing.
To float before we swim forward again.
✨ Liminal Space Deserves Honor
If you’re feeling unanchored right now, longing for focus, but not quite ready for pressure, you’re not alone.
You’re in a transition space. And transitions deserve care.
This is the moment to ask:
What would center me right now, instead of stretch me?
Maybe it’s:
- A morning ritual you actually enjoy
- Letting go of one thing you were trying to force
- Trusting that you’ll know what to do when it’s time to do it
Let that be enough.
Let you be enough.
The season is already shifting. You don’t have to rush to meet it. You can float your way forward and arrive fully present.
With steadiness,
Blaze
💛 If you’re craving a season of softening; one that helps you float before you swim - Anchored & Alive is here for you.
It’s a gentle path back to yourself, filled with practical tools and soulful support.
Explore the course here
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