Reclaim Summer Magic, Joy, & Curiosity As Forms Of Resistance
Summer Solstice Mood Board
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My eyes are barely open as I shift in my bed, linen sheets ruffled between my legs. The night brought with it the warm breath of summer, a gentle breeze visiting my flesh. The window I left open over my bed shoots beams of soft light dancing between the moving leaves of the walnut trees that canopy over my house. I don't keep my phone in my bedroom anymore, so it's hard to tell the time. I can assume it's around 7am, the time the birds start to fluff their feathers and shake the morning dew off. The crickets are silent by now, and so are the tree frogs. The night's symphony is now a morning song, and the doves have joined in, hauntingly cooing between the singing of the robins, wrens, cardinals, and sparrows. I have come to recognize them distinctly as I've picked up bird watching as a hobby. I can even go as far as to tell the difference between mating calls and the melodies meant to greet the sun as it rises from its slumber.
I know it's not past 8am because by then I would feel groggy. Instead, I feel embraced by the softness of my stretch as I reach my legs and arms out and make a bed sheet angel. I'll have to make my bed but not now; I'm lingering in the smells of the first day of summer. I want to inhale it deep and wake up the dead parts in me that have been sad for too long.
The air feels lighter, carrying with it the scent of blooming flowers, wild garlic, and the mist of the running stream that sits by the hill of my house —a reminder that the world is waking up too. There's this essence of hope and a sense of quiet resistance against the maddening reality we have all come to know.
As I sit up on my bed, legs spread, I flop forward and plant my face in my sheets. They smell like lavender. I harvested some the other day before the rain came and made a calming spray to keep me from spiraling into anxiety.
Lavender Calming Spray
You’ll need:
• Fresh or dried lavender flowers (about 1/4 to 1/2 cup, more for stronger scent)
• Chamomile dried, just a few
• Lemon balm dried, just a pinch
• 2-ounce (or larger) glass spray bottle
• Witch hazel or vodka (optional, helps preserve and disperse scent)
• Distilled water
Instructions:
1. Make a Lavender Infusion:
Place your lavender, chamomile, and lemon balm in a small pot. Cover with about 1 cup of distilled water (enough to submerge the flowers). Simmer gently for about 15–20 minutes—don’t let it boil too much.
The water will start to take on a faint purple color and floral scent.
2. Strain the liquid:
Pour the mixture through a fine mesh strainer or cheesecloth to remove all plant material. Let the liquid cool.
3. Bottle your spray:
Pour the cooled water into your spray bottle, filling about 2/3 full.
Optional: Add 1/2 teaspoon witch hazel or vodka for preservation.
Top off with a bit more distilled water if needed.
4. Shake before each use.
Store in a cool, dark place, and use within 1–2 weeks unless you use a preservative.
Mmmm, it smells soooo good. And then I heard something muffled, something coming closer. Screeching? Yelling? Is it laughter? Is that laughter I hear coming towards my house from the road at the bottom of the hill my house sits on? A 100-year-old farmhouse which I painted black with a wrap-around porch and deck in the same black. It's my first house (not sure why I say first like I can afford another lol). She sits on an acre of land where the wolf tribe once lived. I have a green door with a black wolf as the knocker that I blessed with the land when I first moved in 4 years ago to ask for their permission to care for and tend to the land. You know, make nice with the nature spirits and honor the ancestors of those whose land we are on. The land that was stolen from the Lenape. A 1st gen daughter to immigrants who had to leave their land because of oppression. We were displaced. And now I am on the lands of other indigenous people who have been displaced.
What a fucking tragedy.
“Strawberry! I want one!” came from a group of children around the ages of 7–16 on my hillside. I watched as they jumped off their bikes and dove into the wildflowers and onto the cover crops thyme, clover, and strawberries, I’ve been planting since the year we first got here. I wanted the side of the hill to be covered in its natural form, providing food and shelter for the wildlife: bunnies, deer, bear, foxes, coyote, the birds, bees, butterflies, squirrels, chipmunks, wild cats… yeah, I feel like Snow White but without all the smiling and frolicking.
They took the liberty to clip off the strawberries and eat them up. They laid there, then rolled down the hill, tossing strawberries into their mouths (non-toxic, organic by the way) and just laughed and played.
I felt an urge to run to the deck and take pics of them. “What a moment to witness,” I said and then it hit me. Like a ton of bricks to my chest. I lost my breath and fell slightly against the edge of the window and thought: Why haven’t I done that? Why haven’t I rolled down my hill and laid with the bees, butterflies, dragonflies, while I ate strawberries held by the earth? Why was I not laughing anymore? Where did my joy go?
I stayed. I didn’t get the phone. I just watched them —be magic, be joyous, and curious about the world in a way I haven’t felt since I was a kid. It visits me… that magical curiosity but then the reality of the world takes its hands and wraps them around my throat, and all that joy, that wonder, leaves my body.
I don’t want to keep going like this. I don’t want to feel numb. I don’t want to feel like I’m slowly dying inside while the world compresses around me. I don’t want to feel this way —guilty for feeling this awful while others are going through worse but I can’t ignore the real mental shit show happening in my head while my health spirals.
I am the kind of person who swallows her pain and wears a mask so well no one can ever tell when she’s broken. When she’s screaming from the inside for help but wants no one to hear it. If they do, they’ll think I’m weak, pathetic, attention-seeking. I will write beautiful things and not interrupt them with the darkness ever so present in my life.
“I want a strawberry!” I yelled with a force I haven’t felt, like, ever. It was hard to get the words out, but as I thought about it, this weird energy rushed from my belly to my throat, and before I knew it, I was out the door and running straight toward the hill. I was just in the hospital for the pain from the high inflammation in my right leg and here I am, running like a kid toward the only sign of genuine life, joy, and magic I’ve seen in a long time. Juliet, you’re going to bust your ass, I thought. But I want to be part of this. I want to experience this moment. I want to follow whatever this is that has got me running with full confidence in these 44 year old knees.
A little girl, around the age of 14, said, “I’m sorry, we’re just playing.” I said, “I know, you’re okay. You can play here.”
“And eat the strawberries?” said another little girl, I’d say she was about 7. Her mouth covered in red and her sunflower-patterned summer dress stained at the chest, a bright red mixed with green from the grass. She was laying on her belly, chest to the strawberry plant, munching away.
“You can eat the strawberries.”
I sat there for a little while, eating and laughing at their silliness. No rhyme or reason, no plans or schedule (school’s off). They were just being present, like I used to be in the days when us ’80s and ’90s kids spent most of our time outside. I taught them how to properly harvest the strawberries, of course lol and then I went off to sit and write this to you now.
There is a lot happening, and some pretty scary things at that. However, we can’t hide and feel guilty for living our best lives. I’ve said this before and I’ll remind you again —we need to follow our magic, joy, and curiosity. But clearly, it’s easier said than done. And then to stay as consistent as possible? That’s a challenge. So I propose that this summer, you make a vow with yourself to get out there and enjoy the fruit of summer.
Let your childlike spirit shine through. A chance to reclaim and resist, a chance to get to know ourselves better when we’re not stuck in the grind mentality, forcing creativity, half-assing our magic, doubting ourselves, and giving up hope on the world. Let the Ancestors of the earth guide us on this. Let the seasons be our elders and allow them to take us through these times in their embrace.
Stop painting our lives on Pinterest and actually live them. Do the recipes. Attempt the cute-ass cake. Put fruit in your water. Take a dive into the stream. Clothes off, thighs waving, bellies jiggling, mouths full of laughter.
We can live our best lives and make a difference. Isn’t that what life should be about? Being in right relation with yourself, being of service, and appreciating every minute of your life by being present.
Get on a bike and stroll your town, or go to a park and do it. Walk, or get around however it is you can but get outside. Befriend the trees, the animals, the people. Say hello to strangers (with discernment, of course), but you know what I mean, conjo…like what we see in those safe neighborhoods on TV, waving to each other. I guess that’s a thing, but I grew up avoiding eye contact for my safety.
But I’m grown now. And I’m safe-ish… I can smile more. I can put my resting bitch face to rest for the summer —I think. I’ll try.
I want to forage more, picnic on the beach, by a river, or in a field. I want to nap in a hammock, skip to my garden, dance in sprinklers, go camping with my friends, cook with them, play, skip, dance silly, and fight against the systems of oppression together.
I want to cannonball into a lake and rest on the branches of trees. I want to stop opting out of fun and make an effort to lean into it. It’s important that we keep our life force alive and keep nourishing it. We do that by simply living, by being in community, by not taking everything so seriously. By allowing life to flow —not forcing it.
Not sure what the fuck you’re doing with your life right now? Who cares.
Maybe that’s exactly where we need to be right now… in the “just be” season of our lives. Here is where we slow down enough to reconnect, align, and amplify our magic, creativity, joy. It’s how we reset, recharge, and fill those spaces within us that have gone numb.
We fight back and we resist by doing the opposite of what they want from us —to be exhausted, to lose hope, to forget about magic and joy, to forget that we hold power.
But we do.
In our laughter, we ignite the force of love. And love is what this world needs. Love is what we need. Love is what will unite us. Love is how we build a world truly rooted in care for each other.
This summer, find where you can be of service. In a soup kitchen. Community gardens. Shelters. Clean out your closets and donate. Had a bigger harvest? Share it. Invite friends to eat at your home once a week or once a month. Do a rotation. Offer to babysit or pet-sit. Go to your library and ask how you can help. Suggest events or projects to your town hall. Speak up about what needs attention. Join volunteer groups, clean the beach, the ocean, parks. Do outreach. Feed the community. Share a skill. Teach it.
There’s a lot going on in the world, and we cannot handle it all at once. The systems will fall they are not in alignment with this earth’s energy, and not in alignment with ours.
We need to focus on building and connecting. We are already in the phase of shit falling apart. Now we must be the ones to create the world we want to see. Protests, marches, petitions, they have their place. But we are far beyond that. These things alone are not going to make the shift we need. We must detach ourselves from the systems as best we can while also creating the resources and mutual aid needed to help us all do that.
I hope you see how powerful a weapon our joy is. How powerful a medicine our curiosity can be. This Summer Solstice, I send a prayer up in sacred smoke for all of us to find the magic of life and never let it go.
Protect it.
Fight for it.
All the rest will fall on us a little softer —if not a little less haunting.
With Love, Juliet
My Summer Goals Mood Board
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