My friend Zee gave me this book for my birthday. What I love most about it is the author doesn’t confine herself to looking forward to things just in the distant future. She looks forward to more common, everyday things: The little things that lift us and give us joy and hope.
Her first thing is the sun coming up.
I live in a house without a view of either sunrise or sunset. This has always pained me. There are houses and buildings blocking the sky both ways.
It’s sad. It is yet another reason why I don’t like living here.
I like the house just fine. It’s where it is that’s the problem.
But when we go on vacation to Rehoboth Beach each summer, I can see the sunrise from my pillow and it is magical.
As much as I often want to just lay there in bed and squint through crusty eyes, I will always get up and go out onto the balcony so I can hear the waves, and the gulls, and the trash trucks.
I am also looking forward to doing Forward Ambulation again in the mornings. Forward Ambulation is what Andrew Huberman calls “taking a walk.”
He says first thing when you get up, go outside and face the sun and do some forward ambulating. This will set your circadian rhythms to their proper coordinates so you’re in sync with nature and you’ll feel better and sleep better.
I’m looking forward to that day in early spring when the sun rises earlier, and the mornings are warmer, so I can resume this ritual of stumbling around in the yard with my coffee cup and corgis, making my way down to the saucer magnolia tree where I can just barely see the sun rise through a little break in the trees.
Still in robe, slippers and glasses, I usually end this walk at the gazebo, where I sit with a view of an overgrown viburnum, and corgis scrounging for birdseed.
It’s only then that I fully realize I’m awake and that I’m glad to be alive.
I’m looking forward to that on this dark day in January.