Labor Day is one of the best holidays, coming, as it does, with nice weather and a long weekend. There is, however, a strum of anxiety that crosses this day. We sense the last call of summer and we want to order one more round of fun before the house lights come up and we are forced to look at our lives in a way that summer's warm intoxication allowed us to deny.
I love Labor Day. It's not just because this day requires no special shopping, decorating or cooking. I love Labor Day because it is all about change and beginnings.
My love of this day is woven of deeply personal threads that defined my early life.
The first, of course, is the true nature of this day. I grew up in a union family, city and state. Our family could mark time with labor movement milestones the way other families used births or anniversaries. We might not remember where my niece was born, but we all remember that my sister went into labor while my brother-in-law walked the furious picket line that led to Pittsburgh's teachers union. In a family that made corrugated paper, steel and glass, Labor Day was taken seriously.
And then there is the cultural thread. Labor Day is the real start to our year. For at least 12 years, most of us started life over in early September.
That sense of new beginning came from years of gearing up for back to school. It's practically cellular to shop school supplies and new clothes even if your last class was 30 years ago. This week we want to buy new pens and paper and notebooks and maybe knee socks and a red plaid shirt.
This time of year motivates us to crave inner and outer changes. September is the time to not only promise yourself a new exercise program, but to start it. It's light out after work and not too cold. And September is so much better than January for changing how you eat. You are coming off a summer of fresh foods and you're not bloated by a month of holiday treats and booze.
Then Labor Day kicks off a season of learning. Don't you feel that pull to study something new? To take a class or workshop?
This is the perfect time to say yes to the book club and to reach for books that will make you stretch. Now, as adults, we can buy our new pencils and circle all the classes we fantasize about in the continuing education catalogs flooding our mailboxes. Labor Day adds just that tiny push to say, "Go ahead, try..." But are you hesitating to sign up for the class at the computer store or the vegan-cooking workshop?
I've just learned a subtle way to move through that hesitation. A friend gave me a magic word that helps to keep the door to willingness open. The magic word is yet You use it like this: Any time you hear yourself resisting or avoiding something, you add "yet" at the end of your sentence.
For example, "I can't figure out how to use my new phone ... yet." Or "I'm no good with languages ... yet." or "I don't like to cook ... yet." Pick your favorite fear, and add "yet."
It works for internal challenges as well. Consider, "I just can't get along with that person ... yet." Each of these "yets" leaves just enough room for you to shift to how rather than whether you will learn to use your new phone, or stream movies or get along with your ex's new wife. Yet is the bridge to change.
So if you sit quietly this morning you'll hear the soft bell beginning to sound. It's coming from inside you signaling a new year and we're glad for it.The trees show us how it's done. Shed the old layers; try some new colors.
It's Labor Day. Happy New Year!
Diane Cameron is a Capital Region writer. Her email address is DianeOCameron@gmail.com.
