June in the Desert

Constriction and Expansion

June in the desert is a difficult month. Most of us are not quite prepared for the heat, despite the fact that this happens every year. We had a beautiful spring here in Tucson, and it lasted well into May. Then June hits and summer here doesn’t wait until the solstice. We are already counting triple digit days. Life has to shift. The thermometer registers mid eighties by 8:30 in the morning. If you haven’t finished your outdoor adventures by 9:00, well, it’s probably not going to happen.

I’ve never been an early riser, until I moved to Tucson. I walked at six this morning. The air was cool, the sky was clear, the sun was up over the mountain, but hadn’t mustered its usual intensity.

Most Tucsonans either hibernate or high-tail it out of here come June. If you stay, you learn to adjust your life. While the rest of the northern hemisphere is opening up into the joy of summer, it’s easy to feel like life is closing in on itself in the desert. So we get up early and go outside, come home and get some work done, and we save our errands until the afternoon when we can get out of the house and into an air conditioned store or library.

When I went to the grocery store this afternoon, it seemed like everyone on the north side of Tucson had the same idea. The aisles were crowded, and I had to walk halfway across the parking lot to find an empty buggy. Summer in Tucson has its own migration patterns.

And of course, bedtime comes early when your day begins in the wee hours of the morning.

I recently read a substack post on journaling by Anne Boyd at Audacious Creative Lives. She quoted this bit from Anaïs Nin.

“We write to be able to transcend our life, to reach beyond it. We write to teach ourselves to speak with others, to record the journey into the labyrinth. We write to expand our world when we feel strangled, or constricted, or lonely…When I don’t write, I feel my world shrinking. I feel I am in prison. I feel I lose my fire and my color. It should be a necessity, as the sea needs to heave, and I call it breathing.” — Anaïs Nin

I’ve been a journaler for most of my life, but also I’m often irregular with my practice. The bolded sentence above is what stood out to me as I read, because this sense of constriction is what occurs in June in the desert.

Fortunately, I have already joined Jen Rose Yokel’s summer art club. I’m looking forward to jump starting my journaling routine again this summer. This is week 1 as we work our way through a 12 week read-along of The Artist’s Rule: Nurturing Your Creative Soul with Monastic Wisdom. You can still join in if you are interested.

Do you have a journaling practice? If so, how do you fit it into your day? If not, what prevents you?

Here are some excellent prompts from Tanya Lynch, journaling coach, that might help get you started. Journaling doesn’t have to be long or pretty or even written with a pen. I often talk into my notes app while I walk.

Complete these simple stems instead of doom-scrolling social media, or while you wait for the kettle to boil, or before reading your book at bedtime.

1. Right now I feel…

2. Today I need…

3. One small win today was…

4. If I’m honest with myself…

5. My energy level right now is…

6. I’m fed up about…

7. Today’s highlight was…

8. I’m learning that…

9. One thing that surprised me this week…

10. Tomorrow I hope…

These sentence stems are designed to be quick yet meaningful. You don’t need to use them all, pick one that resonates most in the moment. One top tip: write them in the back of your journal as a resource for the next few days.

Maybe that's what journaling offers in a season of constriction. It doesn't lower the temperature or shorten the summer, but it creates a little more room inside. A page, a voice memo, a few honest sentences can remind us that even when the world feels smaller, our inner lives can continue to expand.

Let me know what you think!