Can You Hear Me Now

My life, I realize suddenly, is July. Childhood is June, and old age is August, but here it is, July, and my life, this year, is July inside of July.

Rick Bass

July is very important to me. First and foremost, it is the month I was born. It’s hard to imagine what Mom endured being nine months pregnant during an Arizona summer in a house without air conditioning, but she had to deal with a lot worse in her life. My birth may have actually felt like a walk in the park. Besides, having me was a reward worth ten times the suffering. Yes, that was a joke.

On a more serious note, I use my birthday to measure personal progress over the past 12 months. What worthwhile changes did I make? Where am I still stuck? What was I finally able to get past? Do I like myself more or less this time around? What have I learned? What messages do I want to send to my future self? Future self as in me on my next birthday.

Looking back, I am happy with how the year turned out. I have settled nicely into retirement and it’s the rare occasion when I feel bored or restless. If I am not doing volunteer work or household chores, I am with friends or family, biking or walking, reading, cooking, or working on one of my many self-actualization endeavors. The latter ranges from playing banjo to writing articles for this blog. I leave time for flaking out, but usually save it for the end of the day.

Of course, none of us is ever a finished product and there are more than a few items left on my character to-do list. I still react without thinking, shy away from being the bearer of hard or difficult news, talk too much, talk way too loudly, and listen too little.

Come back next year to see how many of those I have eased out of my life and don’t be surprised if the answer is “not many.”

My youngest grandchild was born last July. I wasn’t sure how I would feel about sharing my month with another family member, but how could I possibly say “no” to such a sweet and adorable kid? Thankfully, he chose a different day to come into the world which makes it even more okay. I’ve learned there is room in July for both of us and this year we get to celebrate independently and together. He gets the bigger party, of course, and I’m fine with that.

If I were a day to be lived every day
of every week of every year
I would be a birthday
lighting my way with candles
and stuffing my face with cake

My song would be the song of life
ever thankful for another day
my gift would be the gift of love
to all the world around me

If I were a day and my wishes could be granted
I would be a birthday
and today, tomorrow, and every day forward
would be a party

Bigger Fish

More important than birthdays, July 15, 2018 was the day I realized I needed to make significant changes if I ever wanted to become the person I hoped to be. It has been a difficult journey and it is also the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn’t like who I was and something needed to be done.

Every day we are given opportunities to reinvent ourselves, but for the most part we let them slip away. I am thankful that I took this one seriously and made an all-hands-on-deck effort to integrate the necessary steps into most aspects of my life.

The change began with the admission that some lifelong habits—especially how I pretended that I could go it alone —were hurting both me and the people I loved. My old and unhealthy ways of coping had brought me to a turning point and I needed to take it.

Yes, I am being a bit vague here, but if you take the time to dig through my previous blog articles, you will learn more of my story. As with much in life, the answer is hidden in plain sight.

Similar to my birthday inventory, there is still work to do, but I am in a much better place than I was eight years ago. Remember, it’s all about progress and not perfection. Better yet, I like myself more this July than I did a year ago.

The Big Lake

July is when Linda and I spend nearly two weeks on the north shore of Lake Superior. We hike, bike, wander the rugged shoreline, skip rocks across Grand Marais Harbor, and spend hours reconnecting with each other. We’ve been doing this particular trip for 29 years and it is truly one of the highlights of our year.

I know people who would feel stifled with such a routine, but we are not those people. Each year, we book the same cabin and share the small family-run resort with several other couples who are as routine-comfortable as we are. For a little more than a week, these people are our absolute best friends.

As a moon-child Cancer, I do best in familiar, comfortable places and our rustic cabin outside of Tofte, Minnesota feeds my soul. The smell of pine trees and the sound of waves crashing against the rocky shoreline connect with me in ways that city life cannot. I don’t need fancy. I only need real.

I can’t seem to give up one or the other
The city’s my work the woods my lover
So I’ll be between the two forever
As long as I can live my simple life.

From Simple Life by Michael Monroe

That’s not to say that I am afraid to explore new directions. Not at all. I simply prefer to start from a place of peace and serenity and move on from there. That’s the way it is for us Cancers.

An Adjustment and Not a Shortcut

July 4th is the Tofte Trek 10k Wilderness Run and Walk. This year was the 29th time I double-tied my shoelaces and tackled the rocks, roots, mud, and long climb up the Sawtooth Mountains. I ran the Trek for my first 24 years, but five years ago my knees asked me to ease up a little and I now enter as a race walker. It’s still a grueling event and one I approach with the same intensity I did as a runner. This is an adjustment and not a shortcut.

I hope to do the Trek regardless of age or how long it takes to cross the finish line and I must admit that it sure feels good taking home a first place award. Believe me, I earned it.

With More Julys to Come

Gratitude plays a huge part in my spiritual practice and I am grateful for another year of love, pain, joy, sorrow, contemplation, confusion, sore legs, and anything else you can possibly think of. I don’t take any of what I have for granted. I may like my familiar places, but I am not complacent. Life is a constant adventure filled with surprises and I am embracing all of them — even those that knock me on my you-know-what.

If life is truly July inside of July, then I hope to keep living this season with curiosity, gratitude, and enough energy to keep climbing one more mountain and slogging through one more bog. Or in this case, one more blog.

As I did in 2024 and 2025, I am attaching some pictorial highlights of this year’s Lake Superior adventure. It was a memorable time away from big city life and one that I hope to repeat until I am no longer able to make it up here.

Happy July, everyone. Thank you for reading.

The aches seem greater as the longing deepens
my tolerance for pain is up
while my patience for waiting is down
yes, I still move
albeit that much slower
yes, I still want
stronger than ever

With some things forgotten
and some things stronger
with some things yet to come

Here I am
at six and eight
closer to seven and zero than I care to admit

Here I am
still running as fast as I can