Because, let’s face it, sometimes saying hello is not enough.

June. June!

June, you are impossible.

And I mean that in the most bowled-over and admiring way.

My god, you are an exquisite month. I find it hard to believe that in May I said I wasn’t ready for you. I mean, yes, it’s true. I’m not. Who could possibly be ready for this?

You are outrageous.

Outrageous and all-consuming, with your overnight proliferation of ROSES EVERYWHERE, and the way the entire city is just lush lush lush lush lush.

I can’t bear to be indoors.

I want to walk up all the stone stairways, visit all the gardens, play with all the cats, hum all the hums, and live inside of this heady haze of secret shy delight.

I want to walk for hours in the brisk mornings and then unfold into sunshine with you. Do you see? I didn’t know June would be like this.

I am deep in the stupid, I have no attention span, all I want is June. June!

Seriously, June. You are so over the top, and apparently I am right there with you.

Superpowers of June:

A surprising steadiness.

And a kind of below-the-surface pulse-thrum flutter-thump of possibility.

How you are utterly different from everything I expected.

I don’t know, June.

May was deep waters. May was turning inward. May had loss and May had bright shining moments of redemption.

May had bridges: water meets sea.

And other more internal bridges. May was process.

So I guess I thought we were in for more of that, and then maybe a new adventure on the high seas.

But June isn’t sailing. June is ISLAND. June is all the islands at once.

June is tearing things up and knocking them down, but somehow in this inexplicably and deliciously peaceful way. I don’t really understand it either.

My wishes for June.

Oh, June.

May everything that is done be released.

May all the pieces land in new and beautiful formations, just like in Shiva Nata.

Also, Incoming Me told me a secret about the completion of a passage and what she called illumination through elimination. Yes, please. I’m still not entirely sure what it all means yet but I’ll take it.

My promise to June.

Appreciation. Recognition. Adoration of June-ness. Wonder.

I will laugh when I can and cry when I can’t, but I am here.

I am here.

So dance it up and dance it out. Let’s break things, create things, invent a new lexicon of pleasure and play.

Let’s be trouble together. There will be balloons and elaborate baroque rock formations. Ridiculous birds. Moths whispering truth.

Let’s do it.

June, keep delighting me with unexpected and intense moments of not knowing what the hell is going on. I can take it. Or maybe I can’t, but as Incoming Me whispered onto a blank page:

Courage. Courage. Faith. Faith. Faith.

Love, Havi.

Join me if you like. The commenting blanket fort.

This practice varies from month to month.

For variations, peek at: July / August / September / October / November / December / January / February / March / April / May.

You are welcome to write your own hello letter (or steamy love letter) to June , if you like.

Or you can leave little pebbles for my love letter. Or drop off some gwishes for the month.

As always, we make this a safe space by not telling each other what to do, how to be or how to feel. We make room for each other.

Wishing you the most beautiful June possible. May it be full of unexpectedly good things.

The Fluent Self