I was reading an article about jhāna last week, and one of the things it suggested in that type of meditative practice was to access a feeling of joy. The idea was to go back to an experience that brought you joy, and remember what it felt like, and then try to replay that feeling — not the experience that brought it — in your head and body.

Of course, feelings of joy have been a bit thin on the ground lately, so I had to go back in the memory file for a few. As I was going through them, I realized they had something in common. Here’s three of them:

Rock scrambling and hiking in the cool forests of the Bruce PeninsulaWatching the tree tops sway in the breeze, after a swimComing out a hot dojo after an hour-long practice, into a cool autumn shower, the smell of petrichor in the air

All of them brought me a sense of euphoria and all of them involved being outdoors after some physical activity.

Obviously, the fact that exercise and fresh air is good for you isn’t a revelation (at least, I hope it’s not). But in a system that works to keep us chronically online and indoors, and a society that constantly tells us that consumption should be the source of joy, it’s easy to forget how wonderful the alternatives can be.

Will getting outside and away from screens make all your troubles go away? Of course not. But it certainly will help restore you, and perhaps re-anchor you. And if there’s anything we all need right now, it’s an antidote to feeling unmoored.

I’m reminded, ironically, of a meme going around online right now that talks about The Parable of the Choir. It goes something like this:

A choir can sing a beautiful note impossibly long because singers can individually drop out to breathe as necessary and the note goes on. Social justice activism should be like that, she said. That’s stuck with me.

So, get outside if you can. Ideally, out of the city, or to a good urban park with trees. Perhaps a beach to listen to the waves. Failing that, outside somehow, even if it’s just to a patch of safe-looking grass with your socks off. Mute the phone. Get a brisk walk or a jog in, if you’re able. If not, sit and watch the treetops sway. Heck, even being still at night, listening to the rhythms of the city might do the trick.

Drop out to breathe.

And grab what joy you can.

Visit the blog at No really, touch grass.