Nature does not hurry.

For me, time with family in nature has become the golden standard for recharging. As I age, I appreciate the boost it brings more and more: my mood lifts, my pace slows, proven by the fact I'm not checking my phone every two minutes, and I can almost literally feel my cortisol levels dropping.

My default 7/7 reality looks nothing like this. It's a daily list with multiple tasks, each one a commitment or deadline. Constant notifications on my phone screen. I live at 1.5x speed, where even moments of rest feel like I'm just waiting for the next thing to start. The anxiety of juggling work and family has become so familiar I often barely notice it anymore until it's late in the evening. Or until I step away.

Each morning, when we're lucky enough to spend few days away from the city , I grab that first coffee and watch the world wake up. Mist rises from the lake. Birds begin their conversations. Not a single look on my phone, no e-mails, no phone calls. In the evenings, we gather around a campfire, sometimes for hours, just watching the flames dance while we chat over tea. After my girls are asleep, I might pour a scotch and sit alone with the crackling wood; something about watching logs burn pulls me in like a magnet.

Our days unfold simply. Wild swimming in the lake, barefoot walks through the woods, meals prepared together and eaten outside, where somehow even the simplest food tastes better. Without the noise and rush of our usual routine, we find all of this brings so much joy and provide opportunities for much more meaningful interactions.

What strikes me most is watching my family transform. At home, my wife and daughter often retreat into their own worlds. But here, something shifts. My daughter becomes our wildlife spotter, freezing mid-step to point out a deer barely visible through the trees. She leads our barefoot expeditions. We stop being three people who happen to live together and become something else: a unit, fully present with one another.

There's a phrase I return to often: "nature does not hurry". In the woods, everything unfolds at its own pace. The sun rises when it rises. The leaves fall when they're ready. Everything feels in the right place and at the right time; there's harmony. Such harmony, at least for me, is quite often hard to find in a busy day-to-day life. It feels like nowadays I reach out to nature to be healed and for it to tune my senses.

I've learned you don't need a remote cabin or vast wilderness to touch this peace. A city park at dawn offers its own quiet magic. A small garden can be a sanctuary. Even a single tree, if you sit beneath it long enough, can slow your pulse. The key, I feel, is finding those pockets where nature's patience can transfer into your bones, reminding you what it feels like to simply exist without rushing toward the next thing.

These days, I often measure wealth differently. Not in productivity or achievements, but in mornings spent watching my four year old daughter laughing as she leaps from rocks into the lake. This is what recharges me: not just rest, but remembering what it feels like to be alive.

A.O

photo by A.Orda