A Summer of Wonder (And, Thankfully, Healing)
As I’ve written about recently, wonder has taken a big place at the table of my life. My focus on wonder began in earnest this past summer as I listened to the voices inside telling me to slow down and take my time. I usually start my summers on Long Island in the heady excitement and anticipation of warmer weather and boisterous outdoor activity. As I open up the old rental house my family has been using for 12 years and pull out and clean all the outdoor furniture as well as the beach “toys” (the kayak, the paddleboards, and the Hobie Cat catamaran), I am usually consumed with a slightly manic sense of activity. There’s so much to do! From housework to yardwork to beachwork to gardening, I rush around, consumed with getting everything done and checked off endless lists until the house is “set up.” I frantically have to get everything in its place and ready to use, as if saying to myself, “OK, now it’s time for summer!” But that didn’t happen this year.
Instead, I spent the first couple of weeks at the beach house in late April and early May much more quietly, doing things as they needed doing and not feeling like I had to finish everything as soon as possible. I realized that this was a much more enjoyable way to do things! I didn’t feel rushed or stressed like anything had to be done. My morning routine sometimes stretched into a few hours of quiet downtime, almost all of it without screens, including my phone. Often I watched a variety of birds on the birdfeeder outside for long periods or simply looked at the bay in front of the house. I kept up with my health practices, the gym and yoga classes, and even increased them slightly. But without any set plans, I let each day play out according to how I felt, what the weather was, and what I was drawn to, whether that was an outdoor activity, writing, reading, meditating, catching up with friends, or talking with my daughters, who were able to join me later in the summer.
This year, this was my summer pace. I approached every day with as little urgency as possible, paying attention to my inner life and what unfolded there. I felt many prompts that guided me toward meditation, and I began practicing that ancient art more and more. One variation that I had never done was walking meditation, which I did on the beach in front of our house. Very slowly, I walked on the sand, concentrating on breathing and letting other inputs drift in and out of my awareness. I walked at a fraction of my usual gait, as each step and breath found their coordinated rhythm. Wind, waves, and birds were always part of this activity, but the sensations of their presence were mostly fleeting and stayed in the background. My eyes were focused mainly on the sand in front of me to avoid stepping on shells and rocks. Steps and breath, breath and steps. I did this almost every day for 30 minutes to an hour. And even though it was the same short stretch of beach every day, each walk was a completely different experience. All this novelty came not only from my surroundings but from inside me.
Letting my mind wander, and wonder, like this has always been a delightful way to spend time. It has resulted in my deepest insights about life, solutions to problems, and new ideas and prompts for issues or concerns that I sometimes didn’t know were bubbling underneath the surface. As I digested the differences in my life now versus how I led my life in my hectic and stressful working days , on many fronts, it was a tonic of letting my inner self come to terms with many aspects of myself, how I’ve lived, and the forces that shaped, and shape, my life. The biggest of these is the wonder of being alive and as healthy as I can be.
Of course, boisterous summertime activities had their place. Sometimes this was boating, sailing, kayaking, or paddleboarding. When my daughters arrived, they both needed to spend time working remotely at summer jobs, so our past endless days of spontaneous summer fun were rare. In addition, while they were there, I fell into “dad” mode, cooking and cleaning to support their sometimes long hours of work. Thankfully the slower, thoughtful rhythm I described above, which was so full of peace and wonder, prevailed during most of my time at the summer beach house. And I’m happy to say it has followed me back to London as a regular part of my life now.
A Summer of Wonder and Healing
In addition to a focus on wonder, this summer also presented an abundant opportunity to focus on healing. As I’ve written about previously, the main challenge in my physical health over the past year has been the beginning of osteoarthritis on the outer part of my right knee. I have pursued various paths to try to heal or at least stabilize this condition. In addition to 2 hyaluronic acid injections, the most beneficial solution has been remedial yoga to strengthen my right knee as well as introduce new “space” into my hips and legs. A knee, or for that matter any joint, does not function in isolation. I’ve found that a holistic, natural movement approach to joint problems can heal or at least slow the deterioration once it begins.
In my case, I was lucky to have my great friend Nikki Costello help me. In the spring, she gave me a set of specialized Iyengar poses designed to strengthen what she called “the full expression of my leg” and strengthen and expand my right hip. In the pursuit of diagnosing my knee problem, she was the only person who pointed out that a related source of my problem, and its source to healing, was my hip. It took some diligent work on my part for a few weeks to feel and recognize what she meant. But over the course of summer, the top of my right leg gradually rotated a bit more inward in its hip socket as it got “stronger and longer,” and the discomfort in the outer knee eased quite a bit as the inner part of my leg bore more of my standing weight.
The proof is in the pudding, as they say. I knew this was working because I was able to start doing yoga bridges again (backbends in the shape of a bow, with your hands and feet on the floor). Plus, I can do other gym and yoga routines with no discomfort in my knee, which I wasn’t able to do in the spring.
As periods of my life go, this summer was one of the most “productive” ever. I made no money, accomplished nothing in the outside world, and didn’t keep a busy schedule, crossing tasks off endless to-do lists. But taking time to truly experience wonder was a welcome alternative to my typically busy summers, along with achieving improved health and a deeper sense of peace in each and every day.
