A three-minute walk from our apartment stands a small lone cherry blossom tree. It’s located behind a dull brick building. On this seemingly empty city block the tree feels like a sign of hope. Hope that beauty can hold up in the face of asphalt and concrete.
As I walked on, I saw so many volunteers planting bulbs, clearing paths, and cleaning up both Carl Shurz and Central Parks. There is a friendly buzz among the volunteers as they give of their time and dedication to bring natural beauty to our city.
I am so grateful for the rare flowering tree on the curb side of the sidewalk. And how enchanting it is to walk through the parks and gardens that provide an abundance of natural splendor. The garden boxes on windows and the landscapes of certain buildings also provide color to our lives.
The city in springtime is a panoply of beauty, we just have to look to take in these delightful seasonal palates.
When outside, see if you can find and focus on new blooms. Notice how it feels to purposely take notice of what may have been background previously.
Bring flowers into your home. Do you like potted flowers or cut, or both? Where do you like to put them?
Find inspiration from this season. What might you enjoy now that’s different from other times of the year?
Life isn’t linear. I had always hoped I’d solve what I considered to be my problems, and then live a quality life. The truth is that we revisit issues time and time again. Even when we think we’ve beat it, it will show up unexpectedly. Perhaps it’s why the movie Groundhog’s Day resonates for so many of us.
We are trained early to think that we’ve failed if we have to repeat lessons. In school if we fail a grade, it must be repeated. We are not taught that relearning is nothing shameful. It would be much more helpful should we be told that repeating grades can be as useful as moving ahead. Can we learn that somethings bear repeating?
I have a difficult time learning steps. Dance classes did not come easily. I much prefer workouts that don’t include dancing. Yet, I love dancing on my own, when I can move my body to the music. In some cases, not on the beat, but with the mood rather than the tempo, I feel joyous. That joy is robbed when specific steps are introduced. I go into my head and my physical attunement goes out the door.
That doesn’t stop me from trying to learn. Luckily at this age I can laugh at my difficulties, at least as far as dancing is concerned. Of course, there are other lessons that I continue to struggle with, even if I understand what might help make it easier.
I put together a Seder for our small family. I didn’t over prepare. And I kept telling myself that I should write a list. I never did. I had forgotten to open the horseradish, which I then couldn’t find. I looked everywhere in the refrigerator. Larry kindly volunteered to go out and get a new jar. He had to walk a few blocks since we don’t live close to a food store. This all happened when we were about to begin our short Seder. During clean-up we found the horseradish on the counter where I left it to open it before the meal. Also, the spinach remained in the oven forgetting that, too.
It all worked out. We enjoyed the spinach yesterday. But I know myself. Through the years I’ve come to find that I am well-served keeping lists. Yet I refused to create one for Passover. The forgotten foods were a needed reminder that lists help me.
I will continue to face issues, big and small, that seemingly repeat again and again. While I used to berate myself for what I could or “should” know., now I am grateful that I can learn from ostensibly familiar mistakes. It may seem like the same old issue, but it is new in this never lived before time and space.
Try something that might seem difficult for you. See how it feels. Follow it by something that seems easy, and compare the sensations you experience, and the emotional response to what comes easy as opposed to what is more challenging.
Keep lists if you like. They are a terrific tool. It feels gratifying to cross thigs off your list as you complete them
When faced with a familiar life lesson, keep it in the present. In the same way you have never breathed that breath before, see if you can be in the moment with something that tends to take your mind into the past. Notice what is new or different in this
We just hit the two-year anniversary when our lives changed in unimaginable ways. At least most of us never imagined this. Although I had plenty of professional experience doing trauma work, that usually meant implementing tools to get through a time-limited traumatic event. We could count on the passage of time to dull the immediate impact of the trauma. This was much different. We had to live through uncertainty and constant change while continuing to navigate other, more personal hardships.
We found out we are resilient. We faced our vulnerabilities. There was acting out. And there were multitudes of kindnesses. Relationships were under a microscope. We lost friends and disconnected with family members. New friendships were forged. Old friendships were rekindled. More often than not, differences were highlighted. We experienced division. For some heartier individuals we worked through differences to find connection. In other cases, it was apparent hard work would not bridge the divide.
As for me, I am tired and grateful. The last two years wore me down. I also found unexpected gifts through walking, conversations, posts, and streaming. Life feels more precious, if also more tenuous. Spending less time with distractions it’s easy for me to see areas in need of growth. I can also better recognize a well-honed habit of self-criticism. I had thought I was further along on my spiritual journey. I was arrogant enough to think I actually knew what that looked like. But I am here, now, and it looks like this. Thank you for your part in accompanying me in this journey. I also appreciate you welcoming me on your journey. For my part, I couldn’t have done this alone.
Be sure to thank those who have supported you. We all appreciate being thanked.
Smile when you feel inclined. We have missed smiles with masks on. And, if you are wearing a mask, smile. Remember, a true smile is in the eyes. Let that warmth melt someone else’s pain.
Review what lessons you’ve learned or how you’ve grown in the past two years. It’s important to acknowledge what you’ve been through.
The weather these past few days lightened our moods. With colder temperatures and snow today we may slip back to a shared discontentment. A week ago the general agitation was palpable. Wide-ranging reactivity was pronounced. Small misunderstandings caused friction. And this was among strangers. Relationships have been strained. Most are not able to keep up with inflation. Families are under-resourced, overly tired, and living with ongoing exasperation. Those who live on their own have bouts of loneliness, especially because the difficulty in getting together with others while Omicron was at its height kept socializing at bay.
Distress seems to be the mood of the moment. It’s been tiresome to put plans on hold again and again. Reactivity is at an all-time high. Patience is worn thin. Frustration and annoyance are way too common. So many are at their wit’s end trying to figure out a way ahead.
For a good number there is a relief that the mask mandates have loosened. For others it adds a new layer of fear. There’s the fantasy that we’ll get back to normal. But we are not going back in many ways. Whatever is ahead of us remains to be seen. And that can be scary.
Though it may take a good amount of time to recover physically and emotionally from all we lost these last couple of years, we can find pockets of hope and joy in the present. Yesterday I was helped by a thoughtful salesperson at a hardware store. In a time when customer tolerance is more prevalent than customer service, his assistance brightened my day. Smiles from strangers have taken on a new worth. And the unexpected generosity of friends has been priceless. I will be taking in any and all acts of kindness Now more than ever those moments provide the light that moves us forward.
Rub your hands together until you create heat, then gently place them on your eyes. This can provide a soothing moment.
Sing yourself a lullaby at night to lovingly put yourself to sleep.
Try a new toothpaste. It will help awaken you in the morning since it’s an unfamiliar flavor.
2021 was so, so long. In this last week I have little interest in reviewing this past year. The fact that I, that we, got through it is good enough for me.
The good news is that not looking back, at least for now, keeps me in the moment. My quandary is whether I‘ve chosen mindfulness or denial. If I choose mindfulness, then there’s space for my denial. If I go with a state of denial, then who cares? I will not decide. I will opt for a “both/and” rather than an “either/or” scenario.
The effort that goes into a binary dilemma is too great. We spend so much attention making an argument for our point of view. The more I defend a specific position I take, the less likely I am to learn something new.
So long, 2021. I will not miss you. I appreciate much from this past year. Larry and I moved to a nicer home. We didn’t know we could do it, yet here we are. I continue to enjoy a hybrid private practice, in-person and virtually. 365 sunrises and sunsets made for beautiful light. Being in touch with friends and family, when possible, brought love and laughter. Reading new essays, books, and articles enriched me. Not finishing books, no matter how highly praised by critics, was pure relief. And daily walks always expanded my vision. For those and many other gifts I am grateful.
However, having to reach to our depths to get through a full year of the pandemic unnerved most of us. Our tempers were shorter, our patience wanting. We are at the final stretch. It’s less than a week until we ring in the new year. For me it will be less of a new beginning than it will be a step forward. Another step into the unknown.
Take the pressure off New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day. If you have plans have fun and stay safe. If you don’t have plans, enjoy the simplicity of staying in.
Rather than making New Year’s resolutions, think of what you might like to let go of.
Regift. If what you received isn’t for you for any reason, find those around you who would appreciate it. Or donate. Either way, it’s a win-win.
I always thought I was a generous person. Then I got married and I came to realize that I was only generous in certain circumstances. If something was my idea, great, I was happy to offer services, a gift, or lend an ear. However, if asked, I found I could be withholding. Somehow I felt being asked for something implied I was stingy. And I was. Sometimes I still am. Apparently a generous heart is not a one way endeavor.
I started to notice that “no” was my immediate response when asked for something. I had to learn to pause to see why. I didn’t like this stingy quality and wanted to do better. What I found was that I had often volunteered or ignored my needs to give in ways that more often than not were a sacrifice. I ignored my own needs to unconsciously gain acceptance from others. Once I stopped giving in those instances I had more room to give of myself at other times. I felt less resentful, less parsimonious.
Holidays often highlight our generosity or lack thereof. If we’re motivated by a giving heart, we will feel the joy of the season. If we receive with a generous spirit, we take in so much more than the gift at hand. And, yet we’ve been through a lot. Having foregone so much, with more closures happening at present, we might feel particularly challenged to access our generous spirit.
As we traverse the Omicron variant surge, let’s do our best to open our hearts to one another. We’re in for a bumpy ride. I’m going to do my best in finding the humanity for those who make me bristle. I will be testing myself. Do I have the grace to live and let live? Or will I be judging others? Seething through a tight jaw.
I don’t know what will show up when I’m stressed or down. But I’ll use my reactions as measures of what I might need in terms of grace. And, then I’ll do what I can to have patience as I move through the end of this difficult year into a new year in which living in the spirit of generosity will serve me more than holding on.
As we open ourselves up to the many gifts in life, may we all benefit from the act of giving and receiving.
Send thank you notes. It means so much to those who give to us to know that the gift was received in the spirit of generosity
Stay within your budget. It can feel challenging to not overspend. Remember that an act of love can mean so much more than a boxed gift paid on credit.
Regift to places that accept new items for those who might have lost so much. Some places you might consider are domestic abuse shelters, tornado victims, emergency immigrant centers.
I find it incredibly annoying when I’m upset about a person, place, or thing, I’m on a rant, and the individual listening responds by telling me I should be grateful. It feels like a dismissal of my complaint, valid or not, and a recommendation that I pivot to a “soft music inserted here” blissful moment when I see how lovely life is and how wrong I was to find the awful in this grand world we inhabit.
I see the benefits of complaining. I find it helps me to release my frustration, as well as other unpleasant emotions, so that I can find that blissful place on my own. I am all for being inspired, but I am not a fan of skipping the messy parts so that I make it easier for someone else.
Conversely, in moments of awe and wonder I enjoy the wave of gratitude that envelops me. And, in times when I experience hardship and my family, friends, acquaintances and/or strangers offer their support, I am forever grateful. Kindness is taken in and helps me to grow. My heart softens.
When I listen to award shows, I feel badly for the winners who only want to share their special moment by acknowledging the countless others who allowed them to reach that stage, but the orchestra music plays to interrupt them. Though I won’t name names here, only because I am apt to miss some, I am forever grateful to my relatives, friends, teachers, mentors, therapists, co-workers, colleagues, classmates, and others who have shared their thoughtfulness. It has inspired me. Their acts of kindnesses have been invaluable whether they remember them or not.
So, if for a short time I complain, it is only so that I can unload on my own terms, allowing me to get back to a place in which I am genuinely grateful for all the times I’ve been the recipient of your and others’ generosity of heart.
Find a person to whom you can share your complaints. In the absence of a neutral listener, write down your complaints so they are not swimming in circles in your brain.
Remember times in which you were the recipient of arbitrary kindness. Check in with how it feels to recollect that time.
Write a thank you note. We have lost that art, and they are so appreciated.
Sometimes we just need to get away. It helps to clear our heads and take a break from day-to-day stress. That’s exactly what we did this weekend. It’s been a long time coming. I booked this trip before the pandemic shut down our world. I rebooked three times in the hope that quarantines were a temporary inconvenience. In the end we had to wait until the Canadian borders opened up for the fully vaccinated.
I was nervous to take my first big trip out of the country. But I also wanted a proper vacation. It felt like I needed a proper vacation. So here we are in Quebec City fully enjoying the hospitality and food that is offered with care.
The joy of walking unfamiliar streets and seeing the colors change on the trees has proven to be just the break I needed.
Take a break. If you can’t get away, give yourself quick moments throughout the day when you take 5 deep breaths for a short pause.
Start taking note of the colors changing on the trees. What colors do you like the most? Which trees look as if they’re ablaze? Enjoy he richness of the season.
Savor the natural foods of the season. Whether you like all things pumpkin, or you’re an apple fan, the flavors of fall offer so much.
As a young child I delighted in our Magnavox HiFi. I would sit on the scratchy green wool sofa in our den while listening to Rosemary Clooney. Her album, Rosemary Clooney Sings for Children with its pink background was a clear favorite. I loved the track, Betsy, My Paper Doll, because I was the lucky recipient of the Betsy McCall paper dolls hidden in the pages of my mother’s McCall’s Magazine. The other song that spoke to me was The Little Shoemaker because my father was in the shoe business. At six, it felt like Rosemary Clooney was singing to me personally. I hadn’t realized Rosemary Clooney was an icon until years later when I watched her sing with Bing Crosby in White Christmas on the Sunday Million Dollar Movie.
Recently I was reminded of that album while walking in Central and Carl Shurz Parks in this time of transition. On the grass are one- and two year-olds in a safely distanced semi-circle with their caregivers listening to Broadway level singers shaking egg instruments and leading the children in song. They are singing their hearts out to their young audiences who may or may not be singing along. Each performer grateful for any gig as theater crawls back from being dark.
How fortunate I was to have enjoyed the musical styling of a great songstress. And, how lucky these toddlers are to meet up with some of the best singers from around the country. It’s not clear if it’s simply a part of their activity schedule or if the family values the influence of music in our lives. Either way, I appreciate walking past them remembering the simple touch of my mother’s hand when placing the needle gently on the spinning album even when I asked to hear it again and again.
In addition to Rosemary Clooney, I heard Lena Horne, Harry Belafonte, Ray Charles, Bobby Darin, Julie Andrews, Judy Garland, and many more who allude my memory, crooning through our oak HiFi. On Sundays we listened to opera on the classical radio station. That’s when my grandparents visited. We all sat quietly on the same itchy green sofa or love seat. If we couldn’t be quiet, we had to go play in the basement. I favored Puccini and Mozart. The songs felt pretty to me. But not having an album cover to attempt to read was a limitation that had me go to the basement after an aria or two.
I’m not listening to enough music these days. It’s time to open-up iTunes and delight in Rosemary Clooney and friends.
Play music you used to enjoy. Take in the memories and notice how the songs and music impact you now
Take a walk and see what associations you conjure. What recollections come to mind?
Create new memories by sharing music with someone you respect. If possible, listen together. If you can’t, you can enjoy the association with the music.
No one could have prepared me for the beauty of Ecuador. Wherever I turn the vista is extraordinary. The pictures barely capture the awe that we’re experiencing. Going on vacation is the refresh I so needed.
As if the landscape weren’t humbling enough, I faced my fear to ride a horse to a rushing waterfall. While approaching the cascade, having dismounted the mare, I slipped on the mud. My ego was wounded the most, the slide slightly slowing me down in the afternoon. Nonetheless, I have no regrets. The landscape is gorgeous. The hospitality throughout has been most accommodating.
Sometimes we need a touch of humility in paradise.
If you can go on a vacation, enjoy the surrounding beauty. If you’re not able to get away, travel blogs and far-off location books can transport you for moments or hours.
Do something that scares you a little, but not so much that you’re terrified. As you partake in the activity, notice how the fear can be mixed with other emotions, including pleasure.
Even if it can feel uncomfortable, when appropriate, admit when you’re wrong. It can feel like a release from silent defensiveness.
Though cards, commercials, and media would have us romanticize motherhood, the truth is Mother’s Day can be stressful for so many. Whether families grapple with mental illness, death, physical illness, the court systems, mismatched needs of child/mother, in-law drama, or whether there are reproductive issues, or other circumstances that make the day difficult, allow for kindness and caring while enduring the day.
My Mother’s Day started out with a tepid shower. Very unsatisfying. I was looking forward to a longer, indulgent shower, washing my hair, and deciding which light aroma of my foam soaps I might choose today. Instead, it was a quick and uncomfortable in and out. I cursed while drying off. But my coffee was ready and it’s delicious.
Can I move from one moment to the next without holding on to upsets? That is my challenge, as it has been for a long time. Will I be able to feel the abundance in my life rather than focusing on what isn’t happening today? I will do my best.
As I go through this day marked to celebrate parenting, for better or worse, I think I will focus on reparenting. Reparenting is treating ourselves with loving kindness, employing patience, and compassion. It’s part of my daily mindful practice. And, thank goodness it’s a practice since I haven’t, nor do I expect to, perfect loving kindness. It’s an imperfect practice. We’re imperfect, worthy of love and continued care in all our states. So, I wish you a Happy Reparenting Day, no matter your relationship to motherhood.
Write down at least three things for which you are grateful. Gratitude journaling supports a feeling of abundance.
Soothe your senses. Choose a fragrance, stretch, listen to beautiful music, or eat something delicious. It’s a small, kind gift to delight your senses,
Find a meme, card, affirmation or anything that acknowledges your worthiness.
I would much rather have a small sample of something I really like than to substitute it for an alternative. If ordering a dessert when I go out, though I rarely go out presently, I prefer to order a dessert I want than to order the fruit salad or an equivalent. I can enjoy one or two spoonfuls, savoring the texture and flavors. Just a little bit goes a long way. It’s not just desserts I prefer in small doses.
This week I took two quick visits to The Metropolitan Museum. Both in the morning. As a member I can go on many abbreviated visits, allowing me to go through exhibits a few times to take them in. Or, I can stop by a little gallery within the mammoth structure of The Met. I love the small bursts of art on a weekday. I am so grateful to be able to take quick peaks at great works.
If it’s hard for me to get out for a satisfying long walk, then going for a shorter walk will do. I always enjoy walking. And, though there is something mesmerizing about an extended walk, a short walk can scratch the motion itch. When I do get out for a short walk, I purposely move in the direction of a park. The flowers, the hidden paths or the greenery nourish me.
So I will continue with small bites of what I enjoy. Relishing those little moments collectively add up to a good life.
If you find you don’t have the time for something you enjoy, can you allow yourself a piece of it? Perhaps go for an amended walk, pick up a delicious snack rather than a meal, or read a couple of pages rather than the entire chapter or story.
Look up. Sometimes taking a peek at the sky is all the tiny reprieve you need.
Listen to a new song, perhaps recommended from your music app, or music loving friend. Do you like it? If so, you can always go back later for more from that artist or group.
In my mind this weekend was filled with activity. I was going on long walks, I was starting to prepare for Passover, reading as research, writing, walking Lucy, finding items to give away, cooking for the week, and everything else that involves time and effort when not at work. I forget what is required to get so much done, especially when a nap is in order.
Even after over two years of a changed world due to the Coronavirus, I am still learning that I need more rest than I had a couple of years ago. That’s not exactly true. I probably needed more rest back then, but I thrived on the steady pace of work, perpetual plans, and a never-ending to-do list. Now, however, my to-do lists alone exhaust me. I aim to get so much done on the weekends, but I forget that I need more time to rest.
I am humbled by my limitations. They let me know that I am not super-human, I am simply human. I was never-super human. But due to my low self-esteem, I acted as if I had to justify my existance. To whom? I’m not even sure. Having high expectations for myself no longer serves me. Having realistic intentions helps me move forward towards my aspirations, slower than I’d like, but in the right direction.
My challenge is to continually adjust to the slower pace. I need to cooperate with the circumstances rather than going full steam ahead. I’ve learned that being busy may have suited my energy level at one time, but that is no longer the case. Leading a full life is not a series of crossing-off to-do list items. Full means being in the moment. Enjoying a sunset. Delighting in the spring flowers. Sharing meaningful conversations. Stopping to rest.
Rest. Your body and mind will thank you
When feeling overwhelmed, slow down. Take a moment to check in with yourself. If you’re able to take a break, do so. If not, be patient so that you can get through whatever is required of you.
Plan less. Having open times allows for creative thinking.
It was the summer of 1979. Thanks to a student loan I was in Paris studying French, which I didn’t retain and Art History, which I preserved with many future visits to museums. I felt so cosmopolitan sipping a café au lait while enjoying a freshly baked croissant before classes began. We sat at a café off of the Jardin du Luxembourg. Half the day was spent in classes. By afternoon I was walking for hours getting to know the city of lights.
Those were the highlights. Yet there was so much I didn’t know. Back in our dorm room we had a bidet. I was too insecure to ask how to use it or what it was for. I thought, since we were in a women’s dorm, that it was a douche. What I knew about douches I learned in Summer’s Eve commercials back in New Jersey. When my roommates from other college exchange programs asked if I knew how to use it. I lied. I said, “Yes.” Not knowing seemed as if it wasn’t an option for me.
As memorable as the summer of “79 was, I recall my insecurities as much as I remember the amazing gifts of that European summer. Over 40 years later and I still recall what my wonderful art history professor taught us every time I go on walks, recognizing the architecture. Or, appreciating a painting in a gallery or museum because of what she imparted in our classes and tours. I’m also currently enjoying the marvels of a bidet in our New York City apartment. It’s not a separate structure as it was in Paris. It’s attached to our toilet, a wonderful addition from Tushy. I use less toilet paper, reveling in the simplicity of continental hygiene. The focused stream of water cleans up beautifully.
I may now know what a bidet is and how I can use it effectively, but over the years I have learned to admit what I don’t know. I’d rather learn and grow than pretend that I’m more knowledgeable so someone else won’t judge me. We lose ground when we make believe we’re smarter than we are. I compromised my learning curve and the breadth of joy while in Paris because I couldn’t admit what I didn’t know. Thank goodness I know better now.
Think of something you have wanted to know or learn. Look it up. Or ask a friend about it. It feels nice to understand what we didn’t know before.
Make time to laugh. Do it purposefully. And laugh with abandon.
Be open to be inspired. Keep an open mind and go about your day. Whether you anticipate it from a known teacher, or whether it comes in an unexpected moment, being willing to be inspired is the open invitation to wonder and awe.
Though award shows don’t hold the same cache as they did in my childhood, this weekend is the Academy Awards. Fraught with politics and self-promotion, the awards have lost some of their shimmer. Yet, while growing up I wrote and rewrote my acceptance speeches. It was my fantasy of ultimate success. If I felt insignificant or hurt, my bright future would prove to the world I was somebody. My bullies would see I was special. That was my secret revenge.
I can tell you that the bullies probably don’t remember me, even though that cruelty is etched in every child who was ever bullied. Children who’ve been bullied often have a significant fantasy life. Mine, like a cliché, was a girl singing show tunes into my brush handle in front of the mirror. Thank goodness for my RCA portable record player. It got me through some rough school years.
Now, I’m ages away from those award-winning dreams. But I do find something meaningful in rewarding ourselves for the wins in our lives. And even if it’s not a public speech, acknowledging those who have been supportive are important to recognize, too. We enjoy celebrations during our milestones, like graduations and special birthdays. Perhaps we can find a way to receive an award when we go above and beyond, instituting courage to gain a win. It can be small. It’s simply a nod for our personal wins. We can get stickers, or a new kitchen utensil. Calling a friend and sharing in our happiness multiplies the joy. It gives us a chance to say we matter. And we do.
If you choose to watch Wanda Sykes, Regina Hall and Amy Schumer host this year’s Oscars, have fun. Perhaps enjoying the show can be a reward in itself. If I can stay up I will think of my younger self. Though now I have little interest in a red carpet, I’m simply satisfied to watch from my living room chair.
Write a list of what you’ve accomplished, big and small, this week. Draw a star or a symbol next to each to congratulate yourself for a job well-done.
Create a thank you speech for those who have been good to you over the years. If possible, send them the written speech so they can know they made a difference.
Don’t forget to put on some music and do a happy dance. If you want to do that in front of the mirror, go for it.
Hello spring, you couldn’t come soon enough. We’ve all needed to lighten our loads. And what better way to start than by taking off our parkas? Like the shining moon hidden under the clouds, you’ve come from behind the cold for renewed hope.
The warmer weather feels like a gift. Being able to meet friends outdoors has been invaluable. Being comfortable because it’s no longer freezing, simply warms my heart. Walking this past week felt like a welcomed activity as if I haven’t been walking all along. Nonetheless, there’s an ease with Spring in the air. The city comes alive. The quiet streets are now a recent memory.
It can be a fickle season. Rain is abundant, storms are coming, and the warmth can be fleeting. But for today, I am grateful for the simple pleasure of Spring.
Clean Your Windows. Spring cleaning is a great start to the season.
Take a walk and see the new blooms
Grow herbs and/or flowers on your windowsill, in your garden, or even in a pot on a table. It helps to connect with nature, wherever you are.