Sometimes, it’s not about where you go. It’s just about going.
It’s about changing your pace, your mindset, raising your eyes from your screen, stretching your neck, your back, your legs, breathing … and being.
It can be a place fifteen minutes away from your home, a place that is just simple enough that you (I!) won’t feel compelled to take 1364 photos and feel the overwhelming need to sort, edit, post and share urgently. Sometimes, disconnecting becomes urgent, and the only way to truly stop doing is by going.
Sometimes, the closest and simplest places can do a whole world of good for the body, mind and soul.
It’s about changing your pace, your mindset, raising your eyes from your screen, stretching your neck, your back, your legs, breathing … and being.
It can be a place fifteen minutes away from your home, a place that is just simple enough that you (I!) won’t feel compelled to take 1364 photos and feel the overwhelming need to sort, edit, post and share urgently. Sometimes, disconnecting becomes urgent, and the only way to truly stop doing is by going.
Sometimes, the closest and simplest places can do a whole world of good for the body, mind and soul.
Last weekend, something snapped in me. I had experienced a string of sleepless nights, some mild anxiety and a noticeable (to me, at least) slump in my creativity and focus.
My to-do lists have been exceedingly long and complex this month, with tasks for vastly different projects bleeding into one another. A new collection, a new product line, a new season for events and buyers, new ideas for my content calendar, co-organizing and co-hosting a huge event (this one, if you’re curious), scientific deadlines, creative writing, health advocacy volunteer work and thoughts of a brand new project bubbling behind the scenes. Too many tabs open on my computer, too many thoughts competing for brain space. Colored post-it notes have been trying to rescue my ideas before they disappear like muted fireflies into the night, trying to catch them like an open palm tries to catch confetti.
What’s to be stressed about?
My to-do lists have been exceedingly long and complex this month, with tasks for vastly different projects bleeding into one another. A new collection, a new product line, a new season for events and buyers, new ideas for my content calendar, co-organizing and co-hosting a huge event (this one, if you’re curious), scientific deadlines, creative writing, health advocacy volunteer work and thoughts of a brand new project bubbling behind the scenes. Too many tabs open on my computer, too many thoughts competing for brain space. Colored post-it notes have been trying to rescue my ideas before they disappear like muted fireflies into the night, trying to catch them like an open palm tries to catch confetti.
What’s to be stressed about?
(Having written out the list above, I suddenly feel guilty for having scoffed at my Mom when she suggested my mind might be in overload. Sorry, Mom!)
It had been a few days in a row where I felt my mind’s wheels grinding while turning, and kept catching negative words fleeing my mouth when nothing was actually going all that wrong. By the tenth or so time that I opened the fridge doors and stared at the shelves, saying aloud, “What did I come here for?”, I let out a frustrated sigh.
It had been a few days in a row where I felt my mind’s wheels grinding while turning, and kept catching negative words fleeing my mouth when nothing was actually going all that wrong. By the tenth or so time that I opened the fridge doors and stared at the shelves, saying aloud, “What did I come here for?”, I let out a frustrated sigh.
So, by Friday, I had decided that I needed Nature, time away from my devices, fresh air, an open space, the comfort of crickets and sunshine, a body of water and a canoe.
We set out to a National Park which, contrary to any of the parks we have been to thus far, lies just beyond the urban city limits. Destination: the Boucherville Islands. We packed wholesome food, clothing that allowed for Nature to throw either hot summer or crisp autumn air our way, and we left the burden of time behind us on the mainland.
On the canoe, I let myself feel the waves of other bigger boats. I appreciated the infinite ripples on the water’s surface when the breeze picked up. I took notice of the scraggly sea plants under the clear water reaching up to grab hold of us, and let the sun warm my face and my arms as my paddle sliced through the river again and again.
On the canoe, I let myself feel the waves of other bigger boats. I appreciated the infinite ripples on the water’s surface when the breeze picked up. I took notice of the scraggly sea plants under the clear water reaching up to grab hold of us, and let the sun warm my face and my arms as my paddle sliced through the river again and again.
In sunset light, I walked for a long time, in golden fields livened by a symphony of crickets, cicadas and frogs. The light played on wild flowers and in my hair. In the cool shady spaces between rows and rows of slender trees, I came within a couple of feet from deer - they watched me watch them, each of us curious of the other. I let butterflies and dragonflies circle me, chase me, land on me and continue on their way, with their own secrets carried on their colored wings.
It is amazing how the heart opens up in nature, hushing the mind a little, making sure the sounds of rustling reeds and crickets silences worry, stress and doubt.
One foot in front of the other, over roots, leaves, footpaths and grass, with the path becoming visible only little by little, revealing itself only at every bend. If a bending path can feel so good in sunset light, it can surely feel good in everyday life.
Last weekend, I threw myself into Nature’s arms, like a little girl running in the fields and befriending butterflies.
If there is one thing I have learned over the last two years - in life, academia and business - it is to listen to the needs of your body and mind, and to recognize the need for a shift in mindset and pace when it comes.
And if there is one thing I have always known, it is that places call, and that we feel whole when we listen.
From my heart to yours.
If there is one thing I have learned over the last two years - in life, academia and business - it is to listen to the needs of your body and mind, and to recognize the need for a shift in mindset and pace when it comes.
And if there is one thing I have always known, it is that places call, and that we feel whole when we listen.
From my heart to yours.
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