Practicing Mindfulness on Vacation

I’m writing this post while on vacation up at our family cabin.  A beautiful spot that’s been in our family for over 60 years.  Our parents had it built in the 1950s and we’ve spent entire summers here as kids.  We had our summer jobs near here.  It was a place I learned to love nature, water, boating, trees, reading and developed a love for solitude.

My husband and I share ownership with my sister and brother-in-law.

I have great memories of our parents packing a lunch and taking us on day-long boat trips through the U.S. and Canadian islands.  We’d take in the continual view of rocky islands with pine trees and beautiful river cottages and boathouses.  Dad would get his charts out off we’d go in his mahogany 1928 Hutchinson boat named “Poisson”.   We mispronounced it “Poizzon”.  It wasn’t until high school French class that I realized it.  Whatever.  I chose to continue to mispronounce it because it added to the fun experience of that boat.

When I moved to New York City to begin my career I would still come up here for three day weekends.  NYC was hot and stinky in the summer and the water surrounding Manhattan offered a view of buildings.  Not my thing.  I tried a half share at a beach in New Jersey but it couldn’t compare to “The River”.  To get back up here I’d take a taxi to the Port Authority.  Bus to the Newark New Jersey airport.  Plane to Syracuse.  Then a car rental for another hour and a half drive.  I did this every other weekend for years.  Even when I moved to Northern Virginia I’d either fly or drive up every other weekend.

But everything changes.  Even knowing this I still allowed myself to be annoyed by a change.

About 15 years ago or so a real estate lot in “our” cove was turned into two lots and two families each found the property.  Each family built their home away from home including a boathouse and one U-shaped dock on steroids, plus another dock.  And there went our privacy and view of the pristine shoreline.Plus, all that construction is just a little too close to the tiny shoal we named Happiness Island.

I know I don’t own the water, the cove, or our special little shoal.  I also know I’m really fortunate to have this place so I shouldn’t be complaining that we have neighbors and such nice ones at that.  Sure Happiness Island is special to us with many memories.  We’d swim back and forth to Happiness.  Our golden retriever would stand on little Happiness Island pawing the water as he watched the Perch swim below him.

But, for me, the special vibe of the tiny cove has changed.  Short of winning the big lottery, buying everyone out and removing their cabins, boathouse, and docks, this is how it will be.

But I don’t have to let the lovely vibe change.  I have a choice. 

It’s impossible to feel joy and gratefulness while feeling resentment.  I’ve tried.  It’s impossible to enjoy my time up here when I’m irked.  I ought to know.  It’s impossible to have a beautiful moment continue when in the very next moment I’m feeling annoyed.  It’s “created confusion”.

I can still feel grateful for our place.  Even with the additional people and structures, I can choose to remain beautifully connected to this place.

Today I’m practicing.

As a result of practicing mindfulness on vacation, I’m choosing to let go of that which I have no control over.

A moment can only mar my experience if I let it.  I know I can’t be joyful and ticked off at the same time.  I practice reminding myself how fortunate we all are to be in this beautiful setting.  I’m sure our neighbors feel the same way and have their own special feelings, more recent memories, and similar reasons for why they love it here.

Are you ever challenged to let something go when there’s nothing you can do about it?  That it’s in your best interest for you to just. let. it. go.

Today when I look at the cove and choose to feel irked I exhale.  I remember how fortunate I am until I’m no longer irked.  And I’ll keep practicing this.

I instead focus on the breeze, the sound of the birds, and watch the frequent ships pass by.  If I see one of our neighbors I’ll choose to wave.   I’ll then park myself on a chair and take in the beauty.  I’m mindful to choose gratefulness because I know I’m fortunate in spite of all the change.