Despite my intentions, that relaxed fuzzy summer feeling did not bubble up as I expected. When I sat down to read, I would open the book, read the first paragraph, and the next thing I knew, my mind had jumped away from the story to tomorrow’s to-do list. When I started drawing, my phone would glow, the pastels were abandoned, and I was mindlessly scrolling on Instagram. When taking a sunset walk, I kept checking to see how far I needed to go to reach 10,000 steps, thanks to that notion Fitbit annoyingly planted in my head. It seemed that my adult mind, hardwired for overthinking and productivity, coupled with phone addiction, would not allow me to enjoy simple activities. I feared that the simple summer living was behind me.

Upon some reflection, I realized the skill I unknowingly had growing up, which made summer so special, was the ability to live presently. If I was reading, the only thing to pull me out of that book was my mom calling me in for dinner. If I went on a walk or a bike ride, I would explore and move until I was exhausted or the sun went down. Activities were for enjoying the summer, passing the time, and having fun. There were not many distractions or thoughts.

Obviously, that is what makes being a kid so fun, the lack of responsibility. That is something we cannot rid ourselves of. In fact, responsibility and stress only seem to grow with age, but I think that element of present living is something I need to cultivate. I refuse to believe that this is a lost art, a skill frozen in the nostalgia of childhood, I’m simply out of practice.

The idea of “living in the moment” isn't a new one. People talk about it all the time. It is spoken of as a skill that can be brought into your life through meditation, yoga, some near-death experience, or simply “being mindful.” It’s never been easy to rid myself of a bad habit and slide into a new way of living. I am someone who needs simple daily action.

Then, with impeccable timing, my favorite podcast, We Can Do Hard Things, had Ross Gay, poet and essayist, as their guest. He spoke about his work, specifically The Book of Delights; his collection of essays cataloging a year of noticing delight. Every day he wrote about something that brought him a smile, joy, or gratitude for his humanity—things from an unexpected interaction with a stranger to a good meal. He concluded that noticing delight made his life richer and brought in more joy.

This idea struck me. The delight practice felt like the way that I could dive into my present life. So, every day I have been stopping to appreciate a moment of summer delight; getting the perfect piece of ripe watermelon, the sun hitting my face on a morning walk, the neighbor’s fig tree finally producing fruit, a moody summer storm, my younger sister making me belly laugh, a great line in a movie, talking with friends over patio drinks. Instead of framing the summer as creating moments, I’m noticing all the things around me that make me love the season to begin with…and it seems to be working. Last week I finished that “beach read” before I fell asleep, and it feels like my ability to summer is slowly returning.

Wishing you delight,
Cate

Co-Founder // Coventina and Co.