Moment of Chill

I know this past year has been especially strange and felt particularly hectic at times. It’s been a whirlwind of unprecedented events, major changes, and an endless rollercoaster of emotions. Life as we know it has—at least in some ways—turned upside down, and it can be difficult to keep track of it all while navigating new contexts that feel completely foreign and entirely other. Schedules these days are extremely frantic and fast-moving. Somehow, in what feels like the paradox of paradoxes, with less on our plates and fewer items to juggle, it somehow feels like we are busier and more time-crunched than ever. Maybe it’s the compressed physical and mental space we occupy these days, or perhaps it’s the inevitable blurring of our personal and professional lives. We might even attribute this to the seemingly endless vastness of our newly encountered undefined time, those moments where we think we should be doing something to unwind, but we don’t know what to do because our typical outlets are no longer feasible. So, instead, we put our heads down, dig further into what we think we can “control,” and continue to bury ourselves in our “busy.”

If you’re like me, these days you’re battling a constant tension between always feeling “on” and perpetually feeling unmotivated. We’re living through a pandemic—this is bound to happen—but knowing it’s bound to happen doesn’t make it any easier to navigate. When this feeling occurs, we often tend to feel stuck, confused, and unsure of ourselves.

What do we do? What’s our next step?

It’s simple: We need to find our moment of chill.

I was originally planning to write this post about something else entirely, but as I was cooling down during a stretch after my post-work workout, I realized something. During this ten-minute session the instructor highlighted the importance of taking time to slow ourselves down—both our bodies and our minds—particularly after we’re just coming off an intense burst of physical or mental stimulation. This is the part I continually find myself needing to work on; I’m really good at the “sprint,” and I’ll tackle any challenge that comes my way with vigor and chutzpah, but I’m not always the best at taking a moment after the fact to pause and come back down to earth. Sure, I reflect—this is an on-going process for me—but I don’t always recover in the ways I should and ultimately need to. That simple 10-minute stretch wasn’t particularly challenging or time-consuming, but it forced me to slow my heart rate, steady my mind, center myself in the present moment, and just be. In other words, it forced me to find a moment of chill.

As if this wasn’t enough, after finishing my stretch I decided to check my email[1] and was swiftly (metaphorically) smacked in the face. In what first appeared to be just another promotional email in a sea of mind-numbing time wasters, one particular email from Orvis caught my eye[2]. Now, I had seen emails like this before—this message is part of a larger company series—but something in that moment[3] prompted me to click into the email and watch the corresponding video, which went a little something like this:

Maybe it was the jaw-dropping panoramic views, maybe it was the brilliant fall colors, or maybe it was the recognizably energetic German Shorthaired Pointer featured in the opening frame[4], but this quick, one-minute video was exactly what I needed in that moment. It was serene. It was perspective-shaping. It was outside the four walls I inhabit and never seem to leave. And it was wonderful.

Needless to say, this led me down a bit of a rabbit hole: What other relaxing videos did Orvis have waiting for me to find? A quick click into the “Orvis Moment of Chill” landing page brought me to this little gem:

“There are times when world news or just the rigors of everyday life can seem extraordinarily stressful. At Orvis, we believe in the power of nature to replenish our spirit and restore balance to our lives. So, we urge you to take a little time right now to step away from the stress and … Chill.”

Yup. I dig that.

I couldn’t help but peruse several other clips, tapping into the videos and descriptors that caught my attention. Here are a few favorites I can’t help but share:

Spring on the Coast

Witnessing manatees soak up the sun while sea otters luxuriate in the ocean?

Sign me up.

The Chase

Bouncing fluffy bundles of Corgi joy?

I dare you not to smile.

Far From the Maddening Crowd

Paddling through crystal clear reflective water without another soul in sight?

Yes, please: I’m here for it.

King of the World

Watching Fido “fly” across the waves with palpable joy and unrestrained freedom?

I’m not crying; you’re crying!

Watching these videos got me thinking about how I can better cultivate moments of chill in my own everyday life. As much as I love these examples and everything they stand for, their majestic vistas and exotic environments simply aren’t currently viable. However, just because I can’t sit atop a rocky Vermont outcropping and enjoy the fall foliage with my dog right now doesn’t mean I can’t similarly develop a routine that forces me to slow down so I can create a more sustainable, restorative, and “chill” mindset in my day-to-day. Through practice and careful attention, I’ve found that seemingly “little” things such as watching the sun rise, lighting a candle, going on a long walk, or watching my plants grow can help me refocus my attention on the present moment and ultimately foster a sense of joy and tranquility.

What if I stopped, lived this way, and cultivated this practice a couple times each week? Once a day? Even several times a day? What would the cost be? What would the benefits look like?

And, perhaps more importantly, what would I stand to lose if I didn’t do this, if I didn’t intentionally readjust my approach and find ways to soothe my soul? What would I waste? What would I miss out on?

Whether it’s sweeping panoramas, babbling brooks, or frolicking puppies, you need to find your “moment of chill,” and you need to make it a priority. And while doing so might not technically count as doing “one thing a day that scares you,” not doing so will surely lead to a much darker, scarier reality that I want absolutely no part of.

So join me: We can chill together.