Where The Days Stretch Long: A Quiet Turning Point
June 1, 2025 | Issue #10 | Hey June
In this week's edition we’ll unpack:
Where the Days Stretch Long—We’ve reached the halfway mark of the year—where nostalgia, subtle shifts, and the wisdom of slowing down remind us to pause and realign.
The Veil of Maya—A look into the illusions that shape our everyday lives—through the lens of Hindu philosophy and Schopenhauer. What are we really seeing, and what are we missing?
Don't Force a Recharge, Redirect—Low energy doesn’t mean you're empty. Discover how to move with your energy, not against it—because redirection can be just as powerful as rest.
May these words find you well…
“Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightforward path had been lost.”
Where The Days Stretch Long:
A Quiet Turning Point
And so here we are—June. That halfway point into the year, where the distance behind us is equal to the path ahead. A quiet turning point. Not quite the beginning, not yet the end.
There’s an old Japanese proverb that says:
“If you get on the wrong train, get off at the nearest station.
The longer you stay, the more costly the return trip becomes.”
Of course, that only applies in theory. Time doesn’t offer refunds or reroutes. But the heart of that message lingers—an invitation to recognize when something no longer fits, and the courage to shift paths before we feel stuck on a track we never meant to follow.
There’s a word that often visits during this time of year—Nostalgia. It shows up gently, and sometimes not, like the warmth of a fading sun or the rumble of distant thunder. Comforting. Familiar. It carries echoes of who we were—those long summer days of childhood, when time felt generous and every corner held a new adventure.
But nostalgia, as tender as it is, can quietly anchor us to the past. We reach for it when the present feels too uncertain. We mistake its softness for safety. Yet even the sweetest memories can become heavy if we use them to delay the life that’s asking to be lived right now.
“Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better…”
—The Beatles
This song always finds its way into my head as June rolls in. Maybe it’s the effortless rhyme—Jude and June. Maybe it’s the message: transformation through feeling, not escape. And isn’t that what June offers us? A subtle shift. A slow unfolding. A change to notice the spage between what’s fading and what’s forming.
“And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain.
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders…”
Some days it’s easier than others, to not feel overwhelmed or weighed down. The rhythm of life can be relentless, and time—well, time keeps moving with or without our permission.
So why is it so hard to step off the train, even when we know it’s going the wrong direction?
Maybe because somewhere along the way, we learned to silence our instincts. Our voices. As kids, we were bold with our “no’s”. We asked questions without apology. Why? What’s that? How come? We questioned the world until someone told us to stop—to quiet down, to fall in line.
And so we did.
But maybe this June, we remember.
We remember the kid who tilted their head just to see the sky from a different angle. The one who knew when something didn’t feel right. The one who didn’t need permission to start over.
Because it’s not too late to reorient.
To ask “What if?” again.
To get off the train.
To make it better.
Even here, at the halfway mark.
Especially here.
Fun Takeaway: If June were a friend, it’d be the one who gently taps you on the shoulder and says, “Hey…are you still on the right train?” Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is to press pause, ask a question, or turn around. And if that feels too big—start smaller. Drink water. Go outside. Tilt your head and look at the sky upside down. You’d be surprised what shifts when your view does.
Philosophy of the Week:
Featuring Hindu Philosophy & Schopenhauer
We often take the world at face value—what we see, what we want, what we’re told. But what if much of it is illusion?
In Hinduism, Maya is the veil that cloaks reality, making the temporary seem eternal and the material feel ultimate. It’s not necessarily bad—it’s just incomplete. It’s the dream we think is real until we wake up.
Schopenhauer, a 19th-century German philosopher, was deeply inspired by this idea. He agreed that what we usually experience—the material world, social roles, desires—is a kind of illusion that is shaped by our own desires. What lies beyond the veil, he said, is the Will—an unseen force that connects and drives all life, beyond ego—beyond the dream.
Think of Maya like the set of a play—beautiful, dramatic, ever-changing—but still just a stage. And the curtain? That’s where the truth waits.
Why it matters:
This week, pause before reacting. Ask yourself:
Is this real, or just what I’ve been conditioned to see?
Is this me chasing something… or something chasing me?
Sometimes, clarity isn’t about adding more—it’s about peeling the veil back, layer by layer.
Day2Day Survival Tip:
When your energy feels low, don’t force a recharge—just redirect.
We’re often told to “just push through it” or “rest and bounce back” but what if your energy isn't actually gone? What if it’s just shifting shape?
Think of it like thermodynamics: energy isn’t lost, it simply transforms. So when you’re feeling drained or off, instead of trying to force productivity or rest, try asking: “Where can this energy go right now?” Maybe it wasn’t meant for deep focus or big tasks today. Instead try something simply, like reorganizing one small drawer. Doodle. Water your plants. Go sit outside and stare at the sky.
Redirection doesn’t mean giving up—it means honoring your energy in its current form. A small shift can still move mountains, just slowly.
So the next time you feel “off,” remember: It’s not a flaw, it’s a signal. Energy is always present, even if it’s softer, quieter, or showing up differently than you’d like. Listen to it. Work with it. The more we learn to redirect rather than resist, the more sustainable our creativity, rest and momentum will become.
Some days are for running—others are for wandering. Both are part of the journey.
Words Of Wisdom:
This month, I turn to the profound insights of Norma Wong, a Zen teacher and former Hawai'i state legislator, whose book was one I had the pleasure of reading this past month, When No Thing Works. It’s a gentle guide through uncertainty, idleness and those quiet seasons when life refuses to move the way we expect it to.
Wong doesn’t offer quick fixes. Instead, she invites us into stillness—into deeper attention and subtle redirection. She teaches that when our usual strategies fail, it’s not a sign that we’re broken. It’s a sign we’re being asked to shift in a new way.
When nothing is working, don’t force it. Don’t try to fix or force your way forward. Let the ground settle. Let yourself be undone. There’s wisdom in the pause—direction in the drift. Trust what is reorienting beneath the surface, even if you can’t see it yet.
As June folds us toward the second half of the year, let this be your quiet reminder: not all movement looks like motion. And not all progress makes noise.
Thanks for reading!
Until next time,
Guthrie
P.s. You draw out of the world what you put into it.
