Midnight turns to morning, days to weeks, months to years. And before you know it, the seasons have swept a half a lifetime away.
Maybe that’s why we invented names for the days and months, why we number our years: to remind us of how swiftly they pass.
They’re good times, these moments of transition, to write your thanks on what’s passing, to proclaim your intentions for the time to come so that you may use the swiftly flowing hours wisely and well. Transitions let you pause and consider that time is your greatest gift, the tablet on which you write your experiences, the keeper of your memories, the giver of hope for the fulfillment of your dreams.
Transitions have the power to kindle your awareness of your mortality, of the value of each breath you take, of the importance of your choices and of your freedom to make them. This is your one life, they say; create it as you will.
August is dawning. What will you write across her skies?