I'd been out there for maybe an hour, and I was still waiting for something to happen.
I'd given nature a whole day with no phone and no end time. The idea came from noticing that the more walks I took, the more I craved them. So I wanted to know: what actually happens when you give yourself a full, uninterrupted day in nature, not just a walk?
No technology. Just walking, listening, watching, sitting, and staying curious about whatever was in front of me. I even ate lunch watching the pine trees sway in the wind.
I didn't want to keep thinking about what nature does to us. I wanted to feel it.
The irony is that I'd put it on my calendar as an experiment. And every time I told my assistant I was going to do it, I found an excuse. Something at work would suddenly need my attention.
Funny how we resist what we need most.
I've been thinking about why. I don't think it's laziness. I think most of us believe rest has to be earned. That it's a luxury and something we get once everything else is done. And yet, everything else is never done, is it?
So we fill the space. With work, with plans, with our devices. Even our rest tends to come with a purpose attached, so we can keep pushing. Somewhere along the way, simply being became the thing we feel we can't afford.
A walk in a forest, on a beach, or through a beautiful neighbourhood, as delicious as it feels, usually comes with an end time and a phone in your pocket, because something else needs us. So, I wanted to see what would happen if I took all of that away.
For that first hour or so, I believed I was supposed to make the most of it. Have an epiphany. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, only that something should happen.
Nothing did. Not right away.
That's always the hard part. We want to pull meaning out of something, solve something, feel productive. Even out there, with nothing to do, I was trying to do it well. Performing the experience instead of having it.
There's no set time for the shift. It's different for everyone, and it depends on what you're carrying. But at some point, I moved from being in my head to being in my body.
And once I let go of the agenda, the magic showed up.
There was a family of frogs in a pond I hadn't noticed, though they'd probably noticed me from the start. Any other day, I would have rushed over and sent them scattering. This time I moved slowly and gently, and got close enough to watch them simply be frogs.
I felt the sun's warmth on my face. I watched the light dance through the leaves and felt the breeze while I ate. I tasted my food, really tasted it, and let the experience take as long as it took.
Somewhere in there was a feeling I don't often let myself have. Enoughness. This moment, exactly as it was, was enough.
If you're looking at something you know is beautiful and you can't feel it, that's often your body telling you it's in contraction. Most of the time it isn't the view. It's what we're carrying while we look at it that changes the lens.
What surprised me most was how long that day has stayed with me.
I'm doing everything more calmly and with more intention. I eat slower and look forward to cooking nourishing meals. I get dressed calmly instead of rushing to the next task, and I no longer brush my teeth like I'm being chased. Before I start "doing," I stretch and notice what feels alive in my body.
There's more patience in me now. More trust in the moment of discovery, and in knowing that this is where the magic lives, and that each moment feeds the next. They're all connected, if we choose to see it.
That's the difference a full day made. A walk gives you a pause, but a full day gives you long enough to stop waiting for the feeling and start living inside it. I'm already looking forward to the next one.
I don't live in a garden yet. But I can carry some of it with me. It's already finding its way into my work, and into the paintings still to come from this day.
That's really why I paint. To hold onto a moment of curiosity, of peace, of being present. Those moments are always waiting for you on an ordinary day.
Try it for an hour, an afternoon, or a whole day. Then send me a DM and tell me what you discovered.
And if you'd like a reminder of that feeling at home, come into the sanctuary and find the artwork that matches the energy of your space.
Explore seven quiet moments in nature that you can bring home
With love,
Katherine
