the nightstand & the month of june

There is something in the air in June that holds so much potential. I think it is at least partly because that was when we had our summer transition for the first part of our lives. It set the stage for the summer’s openness. We sense that by the end of June, we’ll be freer than we were in spring and even more so than in winter. But there’s also something in the air in June that activates us, that brings us to the actions winter wouldn’t allow.

Most of my major life transitions have occurred in June, which is my solar return. I don’t think those are necessarily all that related, though, besides perhaps inspiring a bit of a life crisis that evokes a necessary and immediate response.

I was thinking about this, all of this, as I bought a new nightstand a few weeks ago. Mountain out of a molehill, truly. I’ll explain my thought process.

I have had this shoddy white nightstand that is just not my vibe since probably the second year of university. It was given to me, all hand-me-down style, because it wasn’t wanted and I was in no position to turn away a free piece of furniture. Nearly eight years later, I was still stuck with this thing. I hated looking at it, and it had minimal storage.

Now I don’t need to tell you that the storage situation in most Toronto apartments is often one of scarcity. I’ve been trying to sort out my system since moving to the city last year and have only just begun to unravel the packing nightmare I left for myself when I tried for a quick and functional settling. It simply wasn’t working for me.

Anyways, I found a new one on Facebook Marketplace, and it was cheap and abundant in drawers. So much so that it solved my storage conundrum and then some. I now have an empty drawer that I can fill with whatever I want.

I am amazed by the power of even the slightest change to not only remind us of our agency but also of the way change can have an expansive property. This is where change opens us up to new possibilities. This is June, this is an empty nightstand drawer.

Just yesterday I visited my friend in her new apartment. The move was at the end of a very long and taxing circumstance, and she finally made it. I sat with her in her new space, sensing the anxiety of a new chapter, which I think might be outweighing the excitement for now. But all I could see was a blank slate for her, a change made and a space manifested. Not only did she move spaces, but she also invented it by the act of choosing change. By doing what she could with the tools she had.

It goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway, that I am moved and proud of her. All I see is the world ahead of her now. I know how anxiety-inducing the unknown can be, but at the very least it is just as good as it is bad. For her, I know it will be great.

Like choosing a new home or making small furniture upgrades, these are literal representations of space-making, and our actions become pivotal in creating potential. In an abstract sense, we know the phrase “one door closes, another one opens”. We use this idiom to describe an optimistic attitude toward forced change, where opportunities or potential dissipate in one corner and grow in another. It appears to me that choosing change, to co-create with the universe (which involves a bit of anxiety and surrender), is a ticket to even greater capacity for joy, for self-actualization and for the increase of our needs being met.

I can make the change, find more space and wonder what’s next? What can fill the drawer? What can I hang on the walls? What might cross my path? What might enter my life?

June brings us this, at least it does for me. July then becomes a space of being open to the next drawer-filling, wall-hanging, path-crossing, life-entering thing. We have space for the unknown now, an anxiety-inducing but exciting state of welcoming that comes with the acceptance (and encouragement) of change.