Now that we have crossed over into September, many of us feel more hurried, more frenzied and frantic, and much more stressed. The demands of our culture take hold of us, and no wonder, for their forces are strong.

Yet even on the calendar, summer isn't over until the equinox, and in earth time, some of our most beautiful, warm, sunlit days happen in late September or even October. Suddenly there summer is again, if only we can find a way to bask in its gifts.

Many summers ago, my friend Tilly asked me, "Do you know we can slow time down?" I looked at her. "How?" "Sometimes by sitting and reading," she said. "Or I just sit outside and watch the light." My life changed when she said that. I've been watching the light ever since. Light is mesmerizing as it appears on walls and floors and curtains, or slants through clouds and branches and waters out there in the wider world.

I slow time down by listening to the voice of a bird, tuning in to the look in another's eyes, or becoming absorbed in the slicing and tasting of a red orange tomato, remembering that its juiciness is here because of the drumming rains I have heard on our rooftop through many nights of this once in a lifetime summer. Which isn't over yet. Its moments keep opening into time beyond time, letting us move with ease and calm between the now and the eternal.