I went to a summer camp for several years as a child. Each year on the first day we toured the camp as the counselors explained all of the activities. On the first night we were always reminded that our time at camp was short and we should not spend our time sitting in our cabins. We should fit in as much as we could because there were so many exciting things to do. I was too young to fully appreciate the concept of time. To me a week seemed like a very long time. I liked most of the activities and kept myself busy, and each year when camp ended, I was surprised at how fast the time really had gone. Every year, the pattern repeated itself. There would be a feeling of endless time, until all of sudden it was time to go home.

Most of us lead very busy lives. Long hours at work, raising children and transporting them to activities, the necessary tasks of daily living like laundry and mowing the grass, and constant access through phone, fax and email all require time and effort. It is easy to get stuck in our daily routine. We tend to forget how quickly time passes until something reminds us. It may be our child entering a new phase of life, a milestone birthday, or realizing all of a sudden that we are almost a quarter of the way through the year. Wasn’t New Year’s just a week or so ago?

I was reminded of this in January with the death of one of our instructors, Beverly Schroeder. We met in the teacher training program and taught together until her health forced her to stop in 2001. When I visited her right after she decided to transfer her care to hospice, she was still coming to terms with her decision. There was acceptance, but she also expressed a feeling of loss as we talked about the people we both knew.

As I left the hospital that day, I was very conscious of the sights and sounds around me: the huge clouds in the sky, the sounds of traffic, and the many hues of the bricks in the walkway. I felt very aware of the world around me and fortunate to be able to see, hear and experience it. This feeling faded as I went back to my normal activities, but when I visited Bev or thought about her, this awareness returned.

Phrases like “life is short” and “stop and smell the flowers” are common, but we rarely pause to think about what they mean or heed their wisdom. With our hectic days, there is so much to do, plan and schedule, and it is hard to just notice the little things as we rush from one task to another.

There is so much to experience, if we only stop to notice. A common meditation technique is to watch the breath, and to focus on various aspects such as how the breath is flowing, its smoothness, and its feel in different places within the body.

As you watch your breath, you begin to realize that each breath is a little different than the previous breath. One inhalation may feel shallow, another exhalation may feel very long. There may be a roughness in the throat, or a difference in expansion of the ribcage. Unless we stop and watch, all of this happens outside of our awareness.

Watching our breath brings us into the present moment. Any stray thoughts tend to take us away from our breath and out of the moment. Just like our breath, there are many things that occur around us that we see and hear, but they do not really pass into our consciousness unless we make an effort to be aware.

When you bring yourself into the present, the world becomes a fascinating place with new combinations of colors, sounds and smells, and a variety of textures. Nothing is ever quite the same from moment to moment. For most of us, this is not an awareness we can maintain, but we can attempt to find time occasionally to stop and become conscious of our surroundings. There is so much to appreciate.

As spring approaches, try to take a moment to enjoy the ever changing sky, the new, bright colors, the trilling of a bird or the scent of a newly opened flower.

A month or so ago I saw the movie Pirates of the Caribbean. I had read a few reviews beforehand and Johnny Depp’s performance in the lead role was uniformly praised. As I watched the movie, I found my eyes drawn to Depp every time he appeared on screen; he completely overshadowed the other characters. Part of his charisma was the way his role was written, but the majority was the dramatic flair Depp brought to his character. As I left the theater, I realized the movie would not have been as much fun without him and that I could not imagine another actor in his role.

You can probably think of other movies where the lead actors made the movie memorable. Depending on your taste, try to imagine Casablanca without Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman or any of the Jim Carrey comedies without Jim Carrey. The movies would not be the same without them.

Just as an actor can make or break a movie, our world can be changed by a single person. I spent a few days asking friends to name a person they thought changed the world in some way. The responses were varied. Some cited political leaders notorious for their violence such as Stalin and Hitler. Others immediately thought of people known for their nonviolence and charity work such as Gandhi, Martin Luther King, and Mother Teresa. Several mentioned science and technology leaders such as Edison, Einstein, and Jonas Salk who created the polio vaccine. Bill Gates was the choice of a few both for his leadership in the computer industry and as the creator of the world’s largest charitable foundation, which is funding international vaccination programs and other health initiatives.

When you consider any field, there are always those who greatly influence it. Lives do not hinge on some areas such as music, literature, or art, but because of people like Mozart, Shakespeare, and Rembrandt our lives are richer.

Most of us can think of a person or two that influenced our lives in some way. It may be a parent, a teacher, or a friend, but in some way they guided us or gave us something to react to that helped us to become who we are today. Most of those who influence us are not famous in any way.

Steve Hartman, a CBS reporter, travels around the country producing stories about the remarkable lives of ordinary people. He throws a dart at a map of the United States, goes to the selected city and chooses a name randomly from the phonebook. He writes his story about the first person he contacts who is willing to participate. His profiles always highlight something about the person that is extraordinary, though in most cases the person did not think there was anything remarkable to be shown.

Since we see our lives unfold a day at a time and we know our faults and weaknesses, we often do not see how remarkable we are and what a difference we make in the lives of others. We may not have produced a vaccine for a major disease, but we may have donated the pint of blood that that was used to save someone’s life. A few words of encouragement to a child or teen about a talent you observe in them may eventually lead them to a career or activity that they enjoy for a lifetime. A smile or a quick conversation may improve a friend’s mood, which then affects those she sees later in the day.

When you sit back and look at your life, your family and friends, career or volunteer work, you realize how many people have passed through your life and touched you. Then take the time to consider how many lives you have touched as well, and recognize and appreciate your own contributions to our world.

When I was about ten, the highlight of my week was watching a television show called Fantasy Island on Saturday nights. Though some themes presented were a little above my level of understanding, I felt very grown-up because the show began at ten o’clock and I was allowed to stay up late. The show took place on a magical tropical island where guests were flown in each week to have their greatest fantasies fulfilled. Usually the stories involved guests finding the man or woman of their dreams.

One episode in particular came back to me a little while ago. It involved a woman who came to the island looking for the perfect man. Somehow she got lost in the jungle and found a man living in a cottage filled with books. He had read them all and knew something about everything. A number of ridiculous situations followed leading up to the climax in which two men with swords broke into the cottage to kidnap the woman. The man who lived in the cottage immediately picked up a sword and began to defend the woman. The woman asked if he had ever used a sword before. The man replied that he had not, but he had read a book about it. After a spectacular fight, he saved the woman.

I thought this was wonderful. I immediately turned to my mother and asked if I could get a book about sword fighting. (I was ten. The romantic aspects of the situation were completely lost on me.) She reminded me that this was television and that sword fighting could not be mastered this way. Skills require years of practice and cannot be learned by just reading a book.

There are many situations that we see or read about that we intellectually understand, but do not truly comprehend until we experience them. Reading a cookbook is nowhere near as delightful as eating the meals it describes. We can read romance novels or watch movies, but until we actually fall in love, we do not completely comprehend the giddy topsy-turvy ride that love is. We live with a constant barrage of images. Movies, television, and magazines all vie for our attention and each try to reach us in some way. It becomes very easy to distance ourselves and to see the images without really thinking about the situations they represent. Though many of the scenes I see on TV and in movies move me, I know I do not fully feel the depth of emotion I would if I were actually in those situations.

Yoga is considered an experiential discipline. You can sit and watch yoga videos or read about the philosophy, but until you actually experience it, you do not fully reap the benefits. Through classes and workshops we learn form, style, techniques and details. Unfortunately, for many their yoga experience ends with the class.

We encourage students to practice at home because only on your own can you discover what makes yoga so wonderful. To hear an instructor describe a pose and try it with the instructor’s focus is one experience, but it is quite another to work with a pose with your own focus. Only through practicing on our own do we appreciate yoga on a personal level. We learn how our body works: we can sense the details on which we need to focus and we can feel the way each pose affects us. As we spend this time by ourselves, experimenting, playing, even becoming frustrated and impatient, we learn about the tendencies of our minds and about ourselves.

With each new experience, we learn and through these experiences we can better comprehend those of others. When we have had a new love, we can smile at another’s joy with remembrance of our own. When we have suffered a tragedy, we can empathize deeply with another’s loss. When we begin to understand our tendencies and thought processes, we recognize and understand those tendencies in others. Through living and experiencing, we gain a greater appreciation and understanding of the world and those around us.

As a programmer, I worked on more than nine major projects at several different companies. Each of these projects, if done well and in a timely fashion, had the potential to lead to additional projects that would increase the company’s revenue and ensure job security for all who worked on the project.

One company I worked for was very small but had won a major contract in a new area of business. The man who had been instrumental in winning the contract had never managed such a sizable project and was nervous that something would go horribly wrong. This made him afraid to delegate, and he micromanaged to the point that no one could add a line to the program without his permission. Several months later, the owners of the company asked for a demonstration and were surprised that nothing substantial had been accomplished. A new manager was quickly assigned, but it was too late. Though we worked many late nights attempting to make up for the time lost, we never recovered and subsequent contracts for the project were given to different companies.

At another company, I was placed on a project on which the managers improvised as the project progressed. There were no consistent guidelines for the 40 programmers and soon everybody was going in their own direction. When the time came to put the parts together, it could not be done. Huge sections of the program had to be rewritten, and after many costly delays, the client gave up and gave the project to another company.

Another computer company I worked for was an hour’s commute from home. I met with the manager once a week so he could check my progress and make sure I was not going in a different direction than everyone else. The other consultants, some of whom lived in distant states, worked in a similar way. Of all of the programs I worked on, this was the only one that was successful. There was enough guidance to keep everyone together, but not so much that it stifled creativity.

When we come to the yoga mat, we have a wide range of approaches to our poses. Some of us tend to be hesitant. We go into poses tentatively and tensely, jaw tight, breathing shallowly, if at all. In the standing poses, our stance tends to be fairly narrow which is more stable, but restricts movement. This protectiveness is common in beginners, but some of us continue to move in this way for years. Others of us throw ourselves into poses, moving quickly and often without much control or deliberation, and in some poses can be dangerous. Alignment is inconsistent, and in standing poses, we may place our feet so wide as to be unstable. The ideal that a yogi or yogini attempts to achieve is to move into poses freely, but with control. We have enough muscle tone to protect the muscles, ligaments, and joints, but not so much that movement is restricted. We have an ease and a balance of tone and movement and of stability and freedom, which is apparent in every pose from the most basic to the most challenging.

Approaches to life are as varied as approaches to yoga poses. In some challenges, we tighten and draw in, which can be protective and feel safe, but too much conservatism can result in tentativeness, overprotectiveness, and in some cases avoidance. At other times our approach can be too loose or free and we act carelessly, rashly, or even recklessly, which can produce unexpected and sometimes undesirable results. In life, as in yoga, when we approach new challenges with just the right mix of control and openness, the results are far better than we ever imagined. 

My first job was with a very small company that wrote programs to make computers accessible to blind and visually impaired people. The owner of the company is blind himself and we worked out of his house. Every day after lunch, he liked to take a short walk to get a little exercise, and he preferred to walk with a person rather than use a cane or his seeing eye dog. He would hold the arm of the person he was walking with just above the elbow so that he would be slightly behind the person and could feel when they went up or down or changed direction before he reached the same point. On my first day of work, he decided I should learn how to walk with him so we went over the basic rules like stopping for a moment at curbs and describing any changes in terrain that might not be immediately apparent from how I was walking.

As we started off, I very carefully scanned the ground in front of us for anything that might cause him to trip or stumble. Near the end of the first block, he suddenly stopped and jerked back so forcefully I was nearly pulled off my feet. I was horrified to see I had run him into a tree branch. After apologizing profusely, I immediately walked him into a second branch. He had been very forgiving about the first branch, but after the second, he decided we should stop and talk. I explained that I had seen the second branch, but it was so far over my head, I did not think he would hit it. He is 6’5’’ and I am 5’4’’.

I had never thought about it before, but I do not notice the height of things that are more than 6 or 8 inches above my head; they are just high. How high is usually not important because I will fit comfortably underneath them. For once however, it was important and I was surprised to find I could not judge how high things were; from my angle the difference between 6’3’’ and 6’8’’ is not much. Of course, from his perspective, a few inches made all the difference in the world. We decided that from then on when I could not tell if he could comfortably pass underneath something, I would slow down and he would duck. I am happy to say that the second tree branch was the last thing I walked him into.

We all have our own views of the world. In yoga classes, this can become apparent rather quickly as we find poses we prefer and those we do not. Usually at the beginning, favorite poses are those that make us feel good or those that are easiest for us. Some find in the first few classes that they like forward bends either due to their calming qualities or because they have flexible hamstrings. Others naturally do backbends easily and still others enjoy poses that require physical strength. Later on some students enjoy poses that they have worked hard to achieve, such as a difficult backbend, handstand or an arm balance.

There is nothing inherent in any pose that makes it better or worse than any other pose. If we look at yoga poses dispassionately, we can see that all have their benefits. It is our perspective that colors our view of each pose. In a perfect world, we would like (or dislike) all poses equally.

This same sense of perspective applies to our lives. The world and those around us are as they are. How we react is in response to how we view them. If we like someone and they are having a bad day, we tend to give them the benefit of the doubt. If we do not like the person, the tendency is to react negatively; our reaction depends upon our perception.

Ideally, we would see the world clearly; our perspective would not make a difference. We would be able to see tree branches, yoga poses and the world around us as being as they are. Yoga can be a place to start. By noticing our tendencies, our likes and our dislikes, we learn about our perspective of the world and ourselves.  Though obstacles like tree branches may always exist, we may not necessarily have to walk into them.

I have taken classes in three styles of karate. In all three styles, students began as white belts and with time and practice progressed through multiple color belts to become black belts. In one set of classes, I was part of a large group of students who began as white belts at the same time. All of us aspired to become black belts and would talk before and after class about the different stances and advanced skills we saw the other belts practicing. One evening as we were leaving class, one of the students came across a black belt someone had left rolled up on a bench when he went to change. The student picked up the black belt and commented how easy it would be to take off his white belt and become an instant black belt. Much to his chagrin, the top instructor, a high-level black belt who had spent over 30 years practicing karate, walked in right at that moment. He stared silently at the student for over a minute then quietly said that if the student wanted a belt that was black that badly, he could just dye the white belt he was wearing and be done with it. If he wanted to be a true black belt, he would have to earn it. The next week he gave a short talk about the meaning of the belts, how they symbolized the learning process and the skills learned at each level, and how a belt without the process of learning was meaningless. I appreciated his distinction between the outer trappings of accomplishment and the process that brings one to it.

At HAYC we have levels as opposed to ranks or belts, but the purpose is to group people of like skills to teach concepts in manageable poses and for safety. Though upper level poses may be more physically challenging, the process of doing the poses is what is considered important. So someone who is naturally flexible or can balance easily in handstand is no more advanced than someone who cannot do the same poses with the same physical ease. Whether you can touch your toes or do a handstand is not as important as the practice of the poses.

When you have done yoga poses for several years, chances are you have practiced some poses hundreds if not thousands of times. This can be seen as boring repetition, or it can be viewed as the chance to find something new. Our bodies feel very different in the morning than they feel in the evening and they change hour by hour, and minute by minute. If you watch your breath, you will notice that even each breath is a little different than the previous breath. It may be a different length, the ratio of inhalation to exhalation may change, or your breath may flow to different places in your lungs. If you explore each pose with the idea that it is new and different because you have slightly changed since the last time you did the pose, there is always something new to explore. The fun part is that you never know what you will find. You may find you are more flexible or stronger than you expected to be, that you have more or less patience with a pose, or that your mind is particularly focused or active that day. Though yoga poses can increase in difficulty, what is learned cannot be quantified and compared; each of us will have our own experiences.

It is the ability to practice and to experience our practice day after day, week after week, month after month, and year after year that is the true yoga. When we begin to experience our lives with the same focus, curiosity and awareness as we do when we practice our poses, we become true yoga practitioners.

I have spent most of my life in Northern Virginia.  I grew up in Alexandria, Springfield, and Fairfax, and now live in Reston.  When I was little, at the beginning of each school year, there were always a few familiar faces missing and a few new faces as my classmates’ parents rotated in and out of the area usually due to military transfers or a change in political administration.   In talking with the new kids or the kids that were leaving, they always sounded like they went to exciting places: overseas or areas of the US that I did not know anything about. I never thought much about the benefits of living here.

Recently I had a guest who had never been to the Washington area.  We had a free day and he wanted to see the District.   Since I had not been downtown in several years, this seemed like a nice way to spend the afternoon.  I tend not to go into the District because I have seen most of the Washington sights on field trips and with my parents and friends for as long as I can remember.  Washington is always there, so I do not make a special point to go.

When I went with my guest, we took the Metro and walked the few blocks to the Mall. We rounded a corner and there was the Capitol. He stopped and stood absolutely stunned by the sheer size and the beauty of it.  I had forgotten what a spectacular building the Capitol is, so I stood and stared too.  We tried to get tickets to go in, but they had already been given out for the day.  So we continued on and spent the afternoon wandering through the art galleries.  He loved the architecture of the buildings as well as the art itself.  Seeing the buildings and art through his eyes gave me a new appreciation for them.

When I host people teaching workshops at the studio, I am always interested in their comments about the area.  Most enjoy the lushness of the trees, the greenness in the spring and summer, and the wealth of color in the fall. They also appreciate seeing the change in seasons.  They usually notice things that I take completely for granted.

The point is not that living in the Washington area is better than living anywhere else, but that we tend to forget to appreciate something the more we are exposed to it.  When I travel out west and admire the clear air and the astounding landscape of mountains, rocks, and snow, I wonder if the people who see these same views every day see them the same way that I do as a visitor.

There is so much that we take for granted when we are around it day after day, year after year. I did not realize how nice it was to be able to walk into the Capitol on a whim until restrictions were imposed.  My brother did not think much about the change in seasons until he moved to Los Angeles a few years ago.  He commented that the fall and winter holidays do not feel quite right without the accompanying cold snap in the air.

We often do not appreciate our families, friends, jobs, and possessions until something happens. When we lose a possession, we miss it, though many times when we had it, we did not think much about it.  When we take our friends and family for granted, we do not appreciate the warmth, comfort, and support they bring to us until something happens that changes the relationship.   If we treasure what we have, we can take pleasure in everything around us each and every day.  This adds texture and depth to even the little common occurrences like the changing of the color of a leaf.

As fall approaches, perhaps we could take a moment or two to appreciate what we have right here: the magnificence of a capitol city, the beauty of the changing seasons, our family and friends, and everything that brings richness and fullness to our lives.

In the Spring brochure, I wrote about questions, such as how children ask questions in order to learn, while adults tend to hide their curiosity so they do not appear to be less knowledgeable than the people around them. I focused on the type of questions that can be answered through known facts or through research: Why is the sky blue? Why does this pose stretch the hamstrings more than that pose?

There is such a wealth of information available now through sources such as newspapers, books, and the Internet. It is amazing to think about scholars centuries ago who could in theory read the majority of the books that had been printed up to that time. Now we cannot possibly read the majority of the works on even a single subject. A search on the Internet for the word “yoga” produced 1,829,335 results in less than 20 seconds, showing that there is more available than we can ever hope to absorb. When we have a basic question, there is so much information accessible that it can be overwhelming, but it seems that if we search long enough, we will be able to find answers to whatever questions we have.

Even with all of this information available at our fingertips, the questions that concern us the most are questions that cannot be answered through research. The answers to questions such as What should I be when I grow up? What should I do in my retirement? What would make me happy? cannot be found in books. Many times we turn to others with these questions, but their answers cannot completely satisfy us either. They have had different influences and experiences, so the best they can do is tell us what would satisfy them.

A few years ago, one of my friends made a major life change. She had spent years as an accountant and was doing very well at a local firm. However, she was never quite happy there and started to think about changing jobs. As she thought about it and questioned the options open to her, she decided instead to change careers.

After several months of thought and sessions with a career counselor, she discovered that social work suited her best. Many of her friends advised against this major career change, but she went ahead with her new plan, leaving her job and going back to school full time. She graduated a year ago and is much happier with her current profession.

When we ask a question, we may see several options and our friends may offer more, but the true answer to a personal question must come from within. In asking somebody else for their opinion about a personal matter, the best they can do is offer advice, for they cannot make the decision for us. It is through thought and self-study that we discover which option is best for us.

There is a concept in Eastern philosophy called dharma. Dharma can mean duty, but it can also mean following the guidance of your inner nature. We all have our own unique path to take in life, and what is right for one person is not necessarily right for another. The way to find our dharma is by making the time for thoughtful self study. By stopping and asking questions of ourselves, we can find the answers that are right for us.

The professor of my freshman Anthropology class walked in the first day and drew a circle on the board.  He pointed to the inside of the circle and told us it represented how much we knew. Next he pointed to the outside of the circle and told us that was how much we did not know. Then he pointed to the chalk line of the circle and explained it represented how much we understood we did not know. He said that over the next four years we would learn a lot, and the size of the circle would grow and with it the understanding of how little we knew.

One of the best ways to learn is through questions. Children discover very quickly that through asking questions, they can learn about their world. Many children begin with simple questions like What dat? as they explore their surroundings. As they learn, they progress to questioning why the world is as it is. My favorite questions were “why” questions: Why is the sky blue? My brother favored the more complicated “what if” questions: What if it the sky was green? Usually one question would lead to increasingly more difficult questions: Why is the sky blue? Why does the sun shine through the air? Why is the sun made of gas? What if the sun was made of rocks? At some point my parents would give the answer to end all questions: “Because that’s just the way it is.”

As we get older, we tend to ask questions less frequently. We do not want to admit we do not know something that everyone else may know; we do not want to be embarrassed. Even in school, where we are supposed to learn, we do not want to stand out as the one that does not know as much as the rest of the class. It is easier to stay quiet and look knowledgeable.

Back in college, a woman in my computer science classes questioned everything. In our freshman and sophomore years, her questions were very basic, almost to the point of repeating what that professor said. By sophomore year, she was well known and as soon as her hand went up, people would start mumbling and fidgeting. Then, in our junior year, her questions changed. They became very detailed and incisive. She had learned so much from her questions the previous years that she now understood more than the majority of the class. When she asked a question, that question would generate others and soon the discussion would be at a depth that the professor had not anticipated. By the end of senior year, she was one of the top students in the department. Through her willingness to question, she learned more than most of us.

I am finding that the longer I practice yoga, the more questions I have. At first my questions were about how to do poses. As my practice deepened, the “why” questions started to appear: Why do we do a pose this way? Why does this pose stretch the hamstrings differently than that pose? Why does this pose create a sense of calm and why is that pose more energizing? Usually the answers to questions such as these would elicit others. As I began to delve into anatomy and philosophy, my circle of knowledge increased and so did my questions. Many times I can find the answers to the questions on my own through physically playing with poses or researching in books, but when that fails, I find others I can ask.

With any subject we are interested in, from gardening to astrophysics, the more we learn, the more interested we tend to become. I am always happy when someone asks a question in class. It shows a curiosity beyond the fear of embarrassment that most adults feel in a group and that something has tweaked a student’s interest. So, when you have a question, be bold and expand your circle rather than concluding “that’s just the way it is.”

Never stop asking Why is the sky blue?

During my junior year of college, a friend recommended karate as an interesting form of exercise and as a great way to clear the mind.  I needed one more class to complete my PE requirement, and the idea of a class that would take me out of the rest of my day was very enticing. As computer science major, I was spending most of my time in front of the computer. For hours after I left the computer lab, my mind would spin with possible problems the program might have or with solutions to bugs I had not been able to solve. This made it difficult to sleep or concentrate on other classes. I decided to give karate a try.

I immediately liked the class; the movements were interesting, and there was a reason for each movement. There was so much detail that it required my full attention and all other thoughts faded. When I left the class, I always felt calmer. Unfortunately my schedule did not allow me to take another class while in college, so the first activity I signed up for after I graduated was another karate class. Over a two year period I tried different classes and different styles, but I could not find a class that gave me the same peace that the college class had given me.

At the suggestion of another friend, I tried yoga. I took yoga classes for a number of years, exploring several different styles.  In most classes, I found the same attention to detail that I enjoyed in karate. It also took my mind off my day, and at the end of class, besides feeling better physically, I could look at the world with a slightly different perspective and a greater sense of calm.

When I was finally able to create time in my schedule to practice yoga at home, I discovered I could duplicate the same mental quietness on my own that I had found only in class. After several months of regular home practice, I found that if I had to skip a day, I really missed it, especially the mental respite and the sense of calm yoga produced.  As my practice grew, I became aware of thoughts that never had a chance to surface during the rest of my hectic day. These thoughts ranged from observations about myself to wild ideas for the future, like moving out of my programming career.

Most of us lead very busy lives. Because of our commitments to work, school, family, and friends, we feel guilty or selfish about taking time for ourselves.  If instead of feeling this way, we view our free time as a means to create more peace in our lives, then the time becomes well spent.

Though yoga has become my way of finding tranquility, favorite hobbies such as gardening or biking can be just as effective. Even a regular walk or just sitting quietly and drinking a cup of tea can be a restorative moment. The key is using that time as a break from the rest of the day: a time to think your own thoughts and to let ideas present themselves.  If you can make this a regular practice, you may find that the perspective and sense of calm you feel during your quiet time extends into the rest of your day