“Slow down, you move too fast, gotta make the morning last.
Just kickin’ down the cobblestones, looking for fun and feelin’ groovy.”
“Feeling Groovy (59th Street Bridge Song),” by Simon and Garfunkel
If you want to remember more of your past, slow down in the present.
Perhaps this seems more easily said than done in the course of our gotta-do-it-all, BlackBerry-driven lives, but if ever there’s a time when we should be able to do it, that time is summer. The sun and heat leave us relaxed and thoughtful, the evenings are perfect for leisurely strolls, and even when we aren’t on vacation, others are, which means we all have to move to a more gentle rhythm. Summer is the one season that outright gives us permission to slow down — so why are you still racing about?
You want to know my philosophy when it comes to summer? It ain’t over till it’s over. I don’t care that the stores windows are showing off their fall fashions or that parents around me (I’m a parent too) have been obsessing for weeks, it seems, about back-to-school. One of my everyday heroes was a young mom named Lisa in my old neighbourhood, the Beach area of Toronto, who was known for being the first in spring to don shorts and the last in September to hang ʼem up. Summer officially ends on September 21st and around here the weather channel’s predicting at least a week and a half of sunshine starting this Friday, so I’m still in summer mode. You could be too.
Slow down and pay attention to the way your memory works, the way a cue in your environment brings to mind one association, and then another. Most of the time we are not aware, or are barely aware of the cues around us, and even less conscious of the resulting memories that flow through us in a fast-moving stream.
To write memoirs, you need to pause, bend over and scoop up some of that rushing water. Splash your face with it. Waken to it. Peer below the surface of the stream. What are you remembering? A tiny detail? An emotion? An experience? Why are you remembering this and not something else? How much more can you push yourself to recall? What does the memory tell you about who you were, and are?
Anything in your surroundings that can be sensed can be a cue: what you see, hear, smell, taste and feel.
On a recent weekend trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake, long-time friends and I sat in folding chairs in an amphitheatre under the moon and stars watching Gord Downie (of Tragically Hip fame) perform with The Country of Miracles. The band was rocking, the wine was fresh on the tongue — as we entered the amphitheatre an attendant had handed each of us a plastic wineglass and a nearby tent sold various JT selections — and the evening was hot but not too humid. The showers that had threatened held off. After the concert we couldn’t resist sneaking out, like kids, between the beckoning rows of grapes lit by the full moon.
As I’d enjoyed the music, a number of people and objects around me triggered memories: my girlfriend’s laughter, and the very fact of her being there, reminded me of memorable past outings with her and her husband, including road trips to the Montreal Jazz Fest. Being at an outdoor concert caused similar experiences to flash through my mind: seeing Bruce Cockburn perform outdoor years ago on a hillside near Ottawa, and even a reggae festival in Nagasaki, Japan. Memories don’t always have to make sense to anyone else: the grass around us, slightly damp from rain, and the fact we’d been handed disposable rain capes, reminded me of a semi-disastrous but ultimately story-worthy camping trip in Frontenac Park of years gone by. Knowing Downie is from Kingston, where I was raised, brought back memories of that city too.
After the concert we stayed overnight in Niagara on the Lake and the next day spent a few hours exploring unhurriedly the village of Jordan, where I made the effort to pay attention to the memories that various cues — among them an emerald ring and a Delft vase in an antiques and collectibles shop, a Belafonte record cover on the wall of a bistro, a ravine walk, and fudge being sold in the back of a shop — nudged loose. Day to day I’m as guilty as the next person of letting memories slip by. None of us can pay attention to all the thousands of associations our brains form in the course of the roughly sixteen hours a day that we’re not sleeping (nor the thoughts that continue when we are). But that weekend in Niagara on the Lake and Jordan was lazy and hazy and perfect for it.
There’s still time this season to practise following your memory stream as far and as deep as you can. Of course you’ll need to record your thoughts somewhere, either in the moment or soon after. A pocket notebook is perfect. Point-form is fine.
Here are 18 ways to slow down, and remember, in summer. You know the first one already, don’t you?
Switch it off. Turn off your computer, your BlackBerry, your cell phone. How can you savour summer and access those memories if you’re constantly connected to a gizmo that’s pulling at your attention?
Create a splash. Jump in a lake, take a plunge in a backyard pool, wade in a stream, dabble your toes in a fountain, take a walk in a gentle rain.
Listen up. Summer is the sound of birds singing, the breeze in the trees, waves on a beach, kids playing ball or in swimming pools, rain on the roof, crickets in the evening …
Make a move. Get your body moving in a way you can’t when there’s snow on the ground. Swim, paddle a canoe, ride a bike, take a stroll in town along a lively street, or out of town by the lakeshore or in the woods.
Kick off your sandals. Dip your feet in a pool or stream, sift sand between your toes, absorb through your soles the heat of sun-warmed deck or patio, the cool of shaded grass. Paint your toes an outrageous colour (okay, that one’s just for us girls).
Lick it. Eat a Popsicle, a Mr. Freeze or an ice cream cone.
Smell the flowers. Stop and breathe in the scent of late-summer blossoms and plants, including herbs. I love the smell of fresh rosemary or basil or mint when I rub a leaf between my thumb and fingers.
Stretch out. On a beach towel, a chaise longue, a porch swing, or a hammock …
Taste local fruit. Peaches, pears, blueberries, tomatoes, and apples (early this year) are all in season here. What’s in season in your neck of the woods? Maybe you’ve grown some of it yourself. Or head to a U-pick farm and gather it. Bake a pie or a crumble. The sweet flavour of fruit is the quintessential taste of summer.
Pull up a chair. Sip a latte or tea at an outdoor cafe and watch the colourful parade of people, and pets, pass by.
See an outdoor concert. There’s nothing like music under the sun or stars. Lots of outdoor music in summer is free. Or stop and listen to a busker (throw a dollar in his cap while you’re at it).
Flip a burger. Is there any activity that shouts “summer” more clearly than barbecuing burgers? If you’re tired of beef, try chicken, lamb or even Portobello burgers.
Write a postcard, or even a letter. Bet you haven’t done this in a while. With e-mailing and texting, the personal note is going the way of the mixed tape. I have only two friends who send me cards in the mail for reasons other than a birthday or Christmas, and I adore them for it.
Plan a picnic. Whether the setting is a park or your own backyard, prepare a simple meal (baguette, cheese and wine will do), spread out a blanket and relax. Lie on your back and watch the play of light through the leaves, track the movement of the clouds.
Attend a festival. Whether you like music, antiques, art or crafts, or food, there are festivals galore to enjoy at this time of year.
Appreciate a sunset. There are few things more romantic and inspiring.
Read (or write) outdoors. Anything at all, anywhere at all. My favourite place this summer was under the shade of huge crabapple tree at a cottage.
Encourage your mind to wander. We don’t do nearly enough of this. Too often we’re planning, stressing, trouble-shooting, checking for text messages or e-mails, taking care of business. Just put all that aside, find a comfortable spot, take a few deep breaths, and let your mind and memory do what comes naturally. At least for a little while.
You will be amazed at what you remember.