Today’s Season of Seasons: Insects Hole Up Underground

I’ve always been a very seasonal person. This year, I honored the changing of the seasons with more attention and intention. The slipping from summer into autumn is no exception.

Festive earth-toned vases, leaves, and pumpkins replaced the summertime shells and coastal bits and bobs once autumn officially arrived. Apple scents fill the air instead of clean ocean aromas.  Pumpkin spice coffee brews each morning through Thanksgiving, only to be supplanted by peppermint on the morning of Black Friday then hot buttery rum flavor on the first day of the year. Sometime before the end of January, grounds from Rook or Bongo Blend from Bongo Java in Nashville will once again find their way into my filters, but I’ll savor the seasonal flavors until then.

I am content in this season of change. Some things might not be how I would prefer them, and despite the thick layer of fatigue I am wearing as summer morphs into autumn, I am content. 

I lay fear to the wayside. The morning’s crisp breeze and the early evening’s sporadic raindrops electrify my face. The sun’s vibrancy energizes me when it rises and its pastel ribbons pacify me when it sets.

I move slower, both on purpose and because my body needs to in this season. Walking at a slow-moving pace has become the norm for me. While some might see it as a curse, I see it as a blessing because I have more time to notice and appreciate my surroundings. 

I currently prefer cozy to noise and solitude to large gatherings. As the leaves change from muted to vibrant to bland, they will soon be released by their branches and crisp as they become part of the Earth. I’ll heed their lesson and let things that no longer serve me go while turning inward to cultivate my inner peace before it crisps into oblivion.

I’ve been collecting the little serendipitous moments I notice throughout my days and trust each is a piece to a completed puzzle of purpose. 

This smattering of observations leads me to thinking about Japan’s 72 Microseasons. I first learned about them through this short video on the Headspace app:

Click here to see a presentation about the microseasons as a part of my yoga teacher training.

I’ve completely adopted the microseasons into my days. The seasons actually begin in February instead of January, and they can help us be more present by observing the subtle changes in nature. Most of those changes in Japan align with our climate and natural calendar here in the Northeast. Scroll down for a downloadable worksheet I created for a list of all of the microseasons.

The microseason for today, September 28, is “insects hole up underground.” Yesterday morning, while walking to my car at 5:40 AM to leave for school, I heard less insect songs and noise than I had earlier in the week. 

If the microseasons speak to you, please consider signing up for my six-week movement and journaling series called “In This Season,” which begins next week in Point Pleasant. The classes will explore both whatever season we may find ourselves in, regardless of where society or others say we should be, and the current microseason. Through movement and journaling, we will meet ourselves where we are and be present with our right-now selves both on the mat and through our words. 

If the class isn’t an option for you, consider reflecting upon both your current season and the current microseason in your journal every day. Steal even just five minutes from your day and hide in your closet if need be. Acknowledging your right-now self can help with acceptance and a sense of worth. What came before no longer matters. What does matter is you, in this moment, exactly as you are.

And you are perfection.


If you are local and searching for a quiet, meditative writing experience, join me on October 20 and/or November 17 for SoulSparks at Embodied Physical Therapy.


Thank you to those who have purchased and/or read Enduring the Waves ! If you haven’t, I guarantee you’ll make at least one connection to Kelly’s story. Click on the book cover for ordering links and more, including a Reader’s Guide (kind of like a study guide for the book, should you be interested in a deeper relationship with it). Please reach out to me via email (jillocone@gmail.com) if you are interested in having me speak or present at your next book club or community group meeting. I’m happy to meet you!


Thank you for joining me on my journey. I’m so glad you are here.

With light and love,

Jill

If you’d like to stay current with my journey, please consider signing up for my newsletter here:

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“Today’s Season of Seasons: Insects Hole Up Underground” was posted on jillocone.com on September 28, 2024. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer, who was not endorsed or compensated in any manner by any entity; views do not represent any of my employers. Copyright 2024, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact Jill with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries using any of the links below.

A New Season

My days are longer but shorter, as this new season presents a variety of remarkable yet welcome shifts in my awareness and being.

I have been writing this entry for a while now, and every time I add a sentence or two, my list of things to do beckons and I abandon my flow of words for tasks with a blank box waiting to be checked off, but not today.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve said goodbye a thousand-plus-one times to the lazy days of summer, and with it, the ability to go at my own pace

I’ve said hello to new routines, new students, new challenges, and a thousand-plus-one responsibilities thrown at me all at once. It’s always an adjustment reacquainting myself with so many post-Labor Day changes, but this go-around is different.

I’m finding that I need more rest, and instead of go-go-going, I am honoring my knowings. Surprisingly, acknowledging my needs has led to a significant decrease in experincing a fear of missing out.

Take this weekend, for example. I was really disappointed earlier this year when tickets for the Sea Hear Now festival with Springsteen and the E Street Band headlining Sunday’s show sold out before I could wrangle them into my virtual shopping cart. However, in this moment, I am incredibly relieved I didn’t score those tickets. I am definitely in a season where I need peace and rest, and I cannot even imagine heading to Asbury Park tomorrow for the festival. I’d much rather be at home preserving myself and my energy, and I am not feeling the slightest bit of guilt or fear from missing what promises to be an epic performance. I mean, it’s Springsteen in the sands of Asbury Park, for crying out loud, but my needs to rest and recharge away from crowds and noise come first.

I’ve declined other invitations that I’d normally jump to accept, and I’m already betting I won’t make my annual pilgrimage to the local seafood festival next Saturday, either. It’s a strange yet welcome change, this absence of guilt in saying NO, and I like it.

In this season, I find myself craving quiet music, instrumentals and yoga-ish meditative melodies instead of my standby hardish-alternative favorites. I can’t remember a September where I didn’t blast Rage Against the Machine, Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, or Foo Fighters on repeat, but here I am, typing this with quiet piano music providing the soundtrack to my now.

In this season, I say goodbye to anything upending my sense of peace and hello to myself and to contentment, which is more important to me than being happy.

Happy is an emotion that is fleeting as best. Contentment, however, is a way of life. It means I am at peace with what is, and I do my best not to allow “what could be” to taint my right-now peace.

I am content with seeking quiet, in reflecting, and in experiencing softer moments with those I treasure. I find solace on my yoga mat and in creating offerings for my students and others who find themselves in a similar season.

I am content with my path to this moment and abandon any strive for perfection because I accept myself exactly as I am.

I find meaning in observing my surroundings, in my interactions with students and others who are a part of my daily journey, and in honoring my knowings.

Life has been a bit heavy lately, and a number of uncertainties still hover me like ominous clouds. In time, each will dissipate to reveal more of the sun, and I will stand lighter yet stronger, quieter yet wiser, bolder and brimming with resoluteness in that joyful, bright light.

On the flipside, if you are reading this and want to extend an invitation to me for a gathering, please do. I might not be able to join you this time, but next time, I hope to be with you.


If you are local and searching for a quiet, meditative writing experience, join me onSeptember 22 for SoulSparks at Embodied Physical Therapy.


Thank you to those who have purchased and/or read Enduring the Waves ! If you haven’t, I guarantee you’ll make at least one connection to Kelly’s story. Click on the book cover above for ordering links and more, including a Reader’s Guide (kind of like a study guide for the book, should you be interested in a deeper relationship with it). Please reach out to me via email (jillocone@gmail.com) if you are interested in having me speak or present at your next book club or community group meeting. I’m happy to meet you!


Thank you for joining me on my journey. I’m so glad you are here.

With light and love,

Jill

If you’d like to stay current with my journey, please consider signing up for my newsletter here:

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“A New Season” was posted on jillocone.com on September 14, 2024. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer, who was not endorsed or compensated in any manner by any entity; views do not represent any of my employers. Copyright 2024, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact Jill with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries using any of the links below.

The Gift of the Forever Moment

If you happened to catch any of last night’s Field of Dreams game coverage, where the New York Yankees and the Chicago White Sox played the first ever MLB game in Iowa to honor the lasting legacy of the film “Field of Dreams,” perhaps you shed a tear at some point like I did.

Credit: Getty Images/Stacy Revere; posted by Newsday.com

Hopefully, you didn’t shed a thousand or more (and counting, I might add), like me.

Last night’s game was a throwback to a time when life was simpler and the good outweighed the bad. We collectively paused to enjoy a ball game between two teams, but there was more going on than just baseball.

And just like in the movie “Field of Dreams,” more was happening than just what we saw on the field.

It was a catharsis, an awakening, an emotional roller coaster ride highlighting the power of the present moment sprinkled with nostalgia and resulting in an experience unlike that of any other game I’ve ever watched.

The awe and wonder and excitement on each player’s face as they strolled around the original field and house from the movie set and the cornfields surrounding the play field… grown men looked like children with boyish grins full of innocence and authenticity, no matter which uniform they wore or how hard life may have treated them in the past.

We escaped society’s acrimony and noise for a few hours and, instead, focused on the gift of the forever moment and the treasure of a single day, as Kevin Costner so eloquently narrated in his introduction

Our imaginations are infinite..

Sculpting a baseball diamond from a farmer’s field in Iowa.

Longing for summer as seasons are painted on its canvas.

Once this game and this land touches you, the wind never blows so hard again.

“Hey, Dad?” Want to have a catch?”

“I’d like that.”

I’m Kevin Costner, and on this field, we once made a movie about dreams … of baseball and years gone by, and much more.

A tale of love, family, character.

The treasure of a single day.

America has embraced the heroes of our youth for over a century. Those who ran on grass so green it took your breath away…touching bases as white as clouds

Tonight, we pause time. 

In the warmth of August, two major league teams gift us the forever moment; the White Sox, the Yankees.

Come to our Field of Dreams and play ball.

Baseball united us last night, no matter what team we religiously cheer for, with every at-bat and every home run hit into the cornfield.

My team should have won, as the Yankees had the lead in the top of the ninth inning, but a swing by the Sox’s Tim Anderson scripted a Hollywood-style ending: a walk-off two-run homer to win the game in the bottom of the ninth, complete with fireworks.

Despite my team’s loss, I cheered and clapped and wept tears of joy because of the moment’s incredible magnitude, a culmination of the night’s immense emotions and how baseball, yet again, brought us all together.

“And they’ll watch the game and it’ll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they’ll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It’s been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and that could be again. Oh, people will come, Ray. People will most definitely come.” – Terence Mann

It was baseball that gave us something to look forward to, a diversion from the dark days after 9-11, when the crack of Mike Piazza’s bat as he launched a home run that was heard around the nation and when Derek Jeter became “Mr. November.” Sidebar: I highly recommend watching ESPN’s “30 for 30: First Pitch,” if you have already seen it, which tells the story of President Bush throwing the first pitch at Yankee Stadium during the 2001 World Series. Politics aside, it’s one of the best documentaries I’ve ever seen, one that truly captures the gamut of emotions we all felt as we tried to move on with our lives after such a horrific event.

It was baseball that provided a reprieve from lockdown last summer as MLB players were some of the first professional athletes to return to the field. Even with silly cardboard cutout fans filling some of the empty seats and piped-in fake fan noise, we looked to the return of baseball games as a step towards returning to normalcy.

It’s baseball stickers that fill my planner every autumn when the postseason, my favorite sports time of the year, begins. Even when my Yankees do not move on or outright miss the playoffs, I root-root-root for sometimes the home team and sometimes the visiting team as each player on every field pursues their childhood dream of winning the coveted world series ring. 

Back to “Field of Dreams”…

The movie’s premise about a ball field in the middle of a cornfield where ghosts convened to play America’s game is incredibly unbelievable, but that’s the beauty of the film.

Many of our dreams seem unbelievable, like Ray’s, but he did the impossible, the unconventional. He followed his dream, built the field, and they came.

Ray Kinsella made the unbelievable believable.

And 33 years after Ray built his field of dreams on the big screen, Kevin Costner led the Yankees and Sox players onto a neighboring field in front of 8,000 fans in the bleachers and millions of us at home, all because of the lasting impression of a single film with a universal theme.

How many of us can say that about our own dreams? How many of us are willing to put in the work necessary to do the unbelievable like Ray did and make our dreams a reality?

In the quintessential ending scene of the movie, Ray Kinsella and his father, John Kinsella, finally have a catch with each other, making their private personal dreams come true.

How many of us have an ongoing list of the undone things in our life? How many of us, when presented with the opportunity, will make our undone things done?

Behind Ray and John, a line of headlights stretching for miles makes its way to the field.

Ray built it, and not only did he come, but they came. How many of us actually listen to our intuition and attempt to do the impossible?

The Field of Dreams game was so much more than a game.

It was, indeed, like I was dipped in magic water.

It was a pause in time, a gift of the forever moment that amplified the power of the present moment.

It was a reminder of who I used to be, who I am, and most importantly, who I can be.

It was a reminder to love unconditionally and to always treat others with kindness and compassion.

It was a reminder to never lose that sense of wonder or awe in believing each day, each moment, is a treasure.

It was a reminder of a simple moment’s lasting magnitude, such as having a catch with someone we hold dear, or spending time with those we love doing what we love.

It was a reminder to pursue my dreams, no matter how far-fetched they may seem, and to believe in the dreams of others.

It was a reminder of all that once was good and could be again.

Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“The Gift of the Forever Moment” was posted on jillocone.com and on soulseaker.com on August 13, 2021. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer, who was not endorsed or compensated in any manner by any entity; views do not represent any employer. Copyright 2021, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries.