When’s the last time you took a breather?
© Joyce McGreevy (Featured: Margie McGreevy)

The Life-Changing Experience
of Celebrating the Season

Having a good summer? Or did it register merely as high temperatures while you went about your daily business? Considering the seriousness of world issues and the stress of busy lives, does it even make sense to celebrate this season?

Yes! Savoring summer can be a life-changing experience.

Summer sun appears in countless ways.
© Joyce McGreevy

Our brains respond to summer, even if the rest of us ignores it.

Studies have identified two neural responses to summer that seem contradictory. When summer’s heat is on, our brain responses really do slow down. Yet the brain’s ability to respond to tasks that require sustained attention actually peaks in summer.

Does that mean we should turn up the office A/C and focus our high-functioning attention on GTD—Getting Things Done? Or could it mean that summer offers a two-fold opportunity? One, to let our brains slow down. Two, to apply summer-peak focus to more than just mundane tasks.

When’s the last time you took a walk by the water?
© Joyce McGreevy

“Smell the sea and feel the sky.”

Maybe you’ve seen that recent study on the benefits of extended “forest-bathing.” Or the one about standing barefoot on grass for a moment. “Big Duh” Spoiler Alert: Being outdoors is good for you.

Poets have known this all along. “Smell the sea and feel the sky. Let your soul and spirit fly,” sang Van Morrison. Even Ralph Waldo Emerson, a philosopher one pictures barnacled to a desk, declared, “Live in the sunshine. Swim in the sea. Drink in the wild air.”

In summer, sensory experience is amplified. It’s the warmth on your skin, reminding you that, “Oh right, I have a body!” That there’s more to you more than a suit of clothes with a head poking out at the top.

Hello, silly toes! It’s nice to see you again.
© Joyce McGreevy

It’s the rumbling roar and briny scent of ocean waves. The chorus of birds broadcasting nature’s morning news. A sunset so vibrant it practically cries out, “Aren’t you glad you didn’t miss this?”

Craft your own summer.

Summer also meshes with the sensory appeal of what we humans carry. The smell of cocoa butter. The thwack of a baseball bat hitting a home run. The itch of sand in . . . interesting places. The overheard music that transports us to other summers. There’s even a song about that, Eric Church’s “Springsteen”:

“To this day when I hear that song
I see you standin’ there all night long
Discount shades, store bought tan
Flip flops and cut-off jeans”

What were your artifacts of summers past? What human-made objects are part of your summer today?

When’s the last time you sipped lemonade?
© Joyce McGreevy

Savor summer foods.

“I always like summer
best
you can eat fresh corn
from daddy’s garden”

So says Nikki Giovanni in the poem “Knoxville, Tennessee.” What tastes like summer to you? A luscious peach warm from the tree? The salty, syrupy crunch of fairground snacks? The heirloom-tomato and lime-kissed gazpacho your mom used to make? The sour-cherry pie that always held enough slices for everyone?

Summer like a child.

When we were kids, summer marked the beginning of adventure. Boredom was our ally then, because it spurred us into devising games, stories, lemonade stands, and neighborhood track meets—anything to avoid the dreaded alternative, Chores.

We climbed trees, sat under them for hours with books, and turned the stories into plays, casting them with any available siblings, dolls, and pets.

When’s the last time you saw the world from a treehouse?
© Joyce McGreevy

We did not “set goals” or work on “self-improvement.” We gave into obsessions. Like reading every Nancy Drew mystery or book about ancient Egypt.  Learning to skateboard, draw a horse, do magic tricks, blow chewing-gum bubbles, craft a lanyard, or make up dance routines to radio songs.

Now that we’re all grown up, why settle for staring at phones and online episodes?

Imagine taking out the teeny-tiny key to that little pink diary you kept in fifth grade. Picture the “Bestest, Funnest Day Ever!!!!!” What simple pleasure or Big Adventure is written there?

Give yourself a hall pass and rediscover recess. You’ll be the better for it.
© Joyce McGreevy

Cast summer magic.

When I was a kid, summer nights were for suppers on the patio, outdoor concerts, and coming home from the beach so drowsy that our parents carried us in from the station wagon and put us to bed. Okay, maybe some of us pretended to be asleep, cherishing the safety of a parent’s TLC.

One summer my sister Carolyn and I investigated The Mystery of The Fast-Growing Zucchini. For several nights, we went on stake-out, setting up sleeping bags in the garden and staring intently, determined not to . . . (yawn) . . . fall . . . asleep . .  . . .

Although we never did crack the case, we had delightful conversations, made up the silliest songs, and even experienced the thrill of star-diving: We’d lie on the grass and convince our brains that the sky was below us. Then we’d “dive” in.

What magic are you making time for? When did you last look up at the sky? Or carry supper outside? Or swap family anecdotes as sunset deepened into inkiest night? Until you could no longer see each other but sensed and appreciated each other’s presence?

When’s the last time you stopped for the summer moon?
© Joyce McGreevy

Share summer abundance.

But what does it matter? In a world that can feel as cold and uncertain as an iced-over alley at midnight, isn’t it frivolous to celebrate summer?

Here’s the thing:

• Those outdoor summers remind you that the environment is not a concept, but where we all live.
• The summer garden you savor feeds your persistence through the winter.
• Summer cooks know that the secret to sweetening sour-cherry pie is to share it.
• Summer nights, when you gather in a circle of belonging, reveal real-life magic: Your circle has the potential to expand. Your circle can grow as big as the Earth is round. Your circle can welcome as many people as there are stars in the sky.

When’s the last time you sat on the porch and watched the world go by?
© Joyce McGreevy

So why give your summer brain a change of focus? Why invite your body for a visit?

Oh, I see: To refill the well.

Only then can you draw strength to do what needs to be done. Only then can you refresh yourself with the clarity to know what that is.

Can savoring summer be a life-changing experience? Goodness, yes. And not just for you.

Need a reminder of summer-night magic? Listen to Allen Toussaint’s “Southern Nights” here.

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