Now if we let ourselves believe, it might seem that summer will never end. Even in the face of the changes taking place around us, we might to choose to remain here in the center of the year where the heat and humidity create a backwater of time.
This is the season in which anticipation cedes to acceptance. It is a time of self-deception. In the same way that the depths of winter seem to erase the possibility that the cold and gray can ever end, Deep Summer seems to promise only green leaves and flowers and warmth.
Suspended from history and precedent, a person might bask in disbelief, rest outside of obligation and reason on an ocean beach of the soul.
On the other side of the sand dunes, you know that other things are happening. You know there are wars and evil. But you are at the beach, and you are listening to the waves, their carefree collapse onto the shore, their soothing, rippling retreat.
The tide is high and moves out away from you. It will not come back for a long, long time. Your fingers sift the sand beside you. You look up into the turquoise sky, listen to the clear, repeating cries of shorebirds.
This is all there is, the sun on your legs and arms, safety and suspension. The warm sand. The smell of the sea. This is Full denial, and it shows you there is still enough time for everything.
This is Bill Felker with Poor Will’s Almanack. I’ll be back again next week with notes for the fourth week of Deep Summer. In the meantime, take a deep breath. Go to the beach of your soul. Summer will never end.
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