piercing the rocks
the sound of cicadas
~ Basho Matsuo
The bittersweet sound of the cicadas reminds me that summer is almost over. We joke that spring and fall are only a weekend long, but summer is always too short for me. The cicadas force me to check my priorities. There isn’t time for everything and I only get to choose some of the things I do; others are chosen for me by circumstances out of my control. Being clear about my priorities helps me to say “no, thanks” to some opportunities so the things that are really important to me are more likely to fill my schedule. Sometimes I struggle to accept the other events that have pushed their way into my schedule without resentment. And yet, when I am able to accept that I am not always in charge, I usually enjoy these other events, or at least learn something new from them.
The buzz of the cicadas is a natural and regular part of the summer season that reminds me that I am also part of a cycle. The cycle gradually but continually moves from one part to the next. I don’t get to choose where I am in the cycle; I just get to move with it, either accepting and flowing with it or fighting against it, perhaps even making vain attempts to turn back time. Each season has changes and signals that it has arrived or that it is transitioning into the next. I do better when I pay attention enough to listen and adjust to those signs from my body and the environment around me.
Like cicadas, I also have music within me. This music is the melody of my life. How do I “play” my music? Do I demand to be the first violin or conductor? Or can I be content to be part of a group or part of something larger than myself? And am I able to be still enough to hear the music others make? Can I celebrate their contribution to the chorus? Thanks to the cicadas, I have another opportunity to tune in to what I do and appreciate the gift of summer.