I’ve spent a lot of time in the last week, trying to work out why it is, exactly, that the end of summer cuts so much deeper than the finale of any other season.
The end of autumn? Blink and you’ll miss it.
The end of Winter? Nothing but relief!
Spring? How exciting… next up summer!
End of summer? I. CAN’T. EVEN!
The simple explanation for this, might be that summer and the concept of ‘living your best life’ are inextricably linked.
Those three precious months, are when life finds its highest, most pleasant counterpoint. It’s when the invitations for all that is restorative and life-affirming come in thickest and fastest, making an eventual comedown… inevitable.
Come September, the ‘luxuries’ afforded by warm weather and long days… they begin to dwindle, along with their associated physical and emotional benefits.
As a possible, plausible reason for why it pains so much to accept the end of summer…this explanation goes a long way.
However, I am not entirely convinced that the psychology of the 'September slump’ is quite so clean cut.
Instead, it feels complex.
A symptom, perhaps, of the stark realisation that saying farewell to summer, means also bidding a reluctant ‘adieu’ to the creative, intuitive and inspired being that you evolved into in its midsts.
One thing I’ve found particularly with summer, is that it tends to make the stars of fashion, confidence and lifestyle align, bringing ‘femininity’ to the fore, and often with positive consequences for creativity, intuition and (inevitably) opportunity.
Ordinarily, I’d be the first to switch off at the the mere suggestion of something so ‘alternative’ (and borderline spiritual) as ’feminine energy.’
However, after much research on this topic, I’m more than a little convinced that not only is this actually ‘a thing’… but it’s ‘a thing’ that is relatively exclusive to summer.
Reflecting on this particular summer, I can concede that in many of the most noteworthy moments, I am arguably at my most ‘girly.’
This… it’s a narrative encapsulated by more movies than I’ve kept count of. From Grease, to Mama Mia… to Dirty Dancing.
In these films, summer is the springboard from which the female protagonist invariably launches, propelling herself into her full potential.
The more I think about this genre, the more I appreciate how the same storylines wouldn’t work quite so well, in the depths of winter.
Mainly, because the feminine energy - the plot’s hidden engine - would be wildly amiss in the frost and thermals aesthetic.
With this in mind, I’m reconciling that my rather visceral reaction to summer’s end, might be not just acceptable… but understandable,
Not just because autumn is but a damp squib in comparison to summer - from a social, weather, and leisure perspective - but also because finding that all-important feminine energy (the lifeforce of imagination and inspiration) requires digging deeper, beyond the easy (but now-chilly) realms of slip dresses and strappy sandals!
Deeper, as well, than the temptation to settle for some ‘sloth energy,’ and shelve all best-self ambitions until Spring…at least.
Comments