Shedding Old Skin: The Paradox of Summer

What associations does the summer season hold for you?

For me, it usually carries a sensation of playfulness and possibility. A bubbling feeling from the inside-out, like I’m a can of carbonated fizzy water that just got shaken (not stirred.)

But this year, it’s different. This year, I’m feeling more like a vampire. You know, shrinking from the light. Lurking in dark corners. A creature of the shadows.

At first, I was like: what the hell, summer? I thought you were my pal! Aren’t we supposed to be eating ice cream together and frolicking on the beach? How come your warmth—that thing I thought I’d been longing for—is giving me the chills?

Instead of just burrowing into a cave somewhere and waiting it out, I decided to get curious. So I’m poking at this whole vampire thing a bit. (Kindly, of course.)

I began reflecting on what wisdom traditions across time and culture have to say about the wheel of the year, and summer’s place within in.

Here’s what I discovered: this cringing from the light might not be so weird after all. It’s more like what happens when we’re cleaning out a wound. As we’re washing it, it stings… so we wince.

A funny little Catch 22, isn’t it? We draw back from the pain, but that pain is necessary if we want to heal.

So what’s this got to do with my odd desire to hide away from the summer sun instead of savoring it?

Plenty, as it turns out.

The summer season itself is most strongly associated with healing and transformation. And in the Celtic tradition I’m currently studying, the archetypal energies connected to this time of year include fire and the snake.

Ah, I see. We’re back to my old friend the phoenix. Death and Rebirth.

Yup. Sometimes we have to get really uncomfortable before things get comfortable again. And like a snake, it’s time for me to slough off some dead skin.

This cringing from the bright noonday sun is a call for me to get low to the ground now. To finish winter’s work, slithering down between the rocks and roots, letting go.

Only then can I emerge into the light. Unbound. Clear. Whole.

Shedding Skin

By Harryette Mullen

Pulling out of the old scarred skin

(old rough thing I don't need now

I strip off

slip out of

leave behind)

I slough off deadscales

flick skinflakes to the ground


Shedding toughness

peeling layers down

to vulnerable stuff


And I'm blinking off old eyelids

for a new way of seeing

By the rock I rub against

I'm going to be tender again

How about you?

Whether you’re soaking up the first rays of summer sun with joy and gratitude, or are feeling kinda unsure about what to do with all that incoming fire, we can all benefit from a little internal housekeeping at this time of year.

The Way of the Healer

If you’d like to play with summer’s themes, and shed old skin in the process, here’s a few reflection prompts inspired by the work of cultural anthropologist Angeles Arrien.

  • What has heart and meaning in my life?

  • Where and to whom would I like to extend the arms of love, which include: acknowledgement, acceptance, recognition, validation, and gratitude

  • What requires my courage at this time?

  • Am I giving and receiving in equal measure? If it feels out of balance, where might I like to make an adjustment?

  • What stories do I want to tell about myself and my place in the world?

According to Arrien, all forms of love are a doorway to healing, balance, and connection. So tell me, what doorways will you walk through this summer?

Chris Clark