Calendaring, with palpitations

My body never tells me “it’s a full moon,” but I have a strong sense for the wheel of the year. Something shifts in me, an internal reorientation, and I think oh, August 1st, Lughnasadh, Lammas, midpoint between summer solstice and fall equinox. First fruits of the harvest, here we are!

Of course, the US academic calendar is also in my bones by now, so an occasional yellow leaf below the green trees triggers another kind of knowing. In early August, I’m still writing and revising, this year an essay on Bob Dylan and a more lyric piece on H.D. Yet omens of academic fall are piling up. I’m trying to give a little time to the pleasant aspects of anticipation–I love syllabus design, and it settles me to have a calendar of events and obligations sorted out–while prioritizing activities that rest and nourish me. Sleep has been BAD so I’m working on that; I’ve been having heart palpitations, even though this isn’t a particularly stressful season, and it’s hard to drop off when your pulse is knocking around erratically. I’m self-medicating with stone fruit, extra hydration, and reading. It’s now #sealeychallenge month, so there’s lots of poetry in the mix from my to-be-read tower, although I’m not strict about the book-a-day rule (it’s good to celebrate poetry but not if it becomes a chore I rush through). Also novels! I recently finished The Bright Sword by Lev Grossman (a slantwise take on Arthurian legend) and The Wild Hunt by Emma Seckel (another Scottish book, set on a small, unnamed Orkney-ish island and featuring the sluagh, bird-like hosts of the unforgiven dead). I had a good time at Confluence, the Parsec sff convention in Pittsburgh, where I picked up T. Kingfisher’s new take on the Southern Gothic, The House with Good Bones, my current evening armchair preoccupation–she’s so good at voice. I also heard good things about Terrace Story and Orbital on a panel about the literary/ sff liminal zone, and the latter just made the Booker longlist, so I’ve ordered them from a local bookstore. It was fun to record and share a brief Verse Daily podcast recently, too.

A bookish life increases my happiness. I’m less sure that calendaring does: is it a manifestation of anxiety or a way of managing it? It’s both satisfying and alarming to apply for grants and residencies as, very slowly, I cue up events for the launch of Mycocosmic (I’m not sleeping now, for heaven’s sake, and I definitely don’t in a hotel room after a reading). My pulse rises as I contemplate my list of what’s due September-ish. Long ago, I thought, “Yeah, that’s doable,” and now I’m reaping something like an overwhelming surplus of fat zucchini. Death of the earth-goddess, indeed.

So I’m figuring out what order to stack my tasks in, but I’m also planning fun stuff. My son comes home this Sunday for a few days’ visit after five weeks teaching at a summer math camp–hooray! We’re organizing a stay with my sister for a couple of days at the end of the month–she just moved hundreds of miles, bought a house, AND is starting a new job, talk about heart palpitations!–paired with a visit to my eldest in Philadelphia (who is also changing jobs and apartments, because revolution is this summer’s theme song). And on the purely relaxing side, we’re trying to slot in a couple of nights at the beach, just because I miss the ocean. The warm, swimmable kind, vs. the sluagh-haunted seas off Scotland.

I sometimes write blog posts as a way of revealing to myself what’s in my heart, and right now I see it’s change with a side course of flutter.

Photo credit: Ronnie Robertson.