Lazy Heat Wave Edition: Expanding your comfort zone is sweaty practice for the future.
My husband has long held that getting comfortable with modern conveniences like air conditioning is a slippery slope.
[picture four teenage daughters simultaneously rolling their eyes]
But he had a point back then, and we´re living it today.
Three of our four daughters now live in the same Amsterdam neighborhood as we do—a thrill for all of us after decades on different continents.
We have apartments in old buildings. Some renovated, others not.
None are equipped with air conditioning. (That´s the norm here.)
We open and close our windows strategically.
We have fans, and we know how to use them.
But, as we face the country´s first-ever Code Red here with a predicted high of up to 104 degrees Fahrenheit (40 centigrade) in some parts of The Netherlands today, there is no panic.
The calmly-stated message simply says to avoid going outside unless strictly necessary, to rest and hydrate, and for chidlren, older adults, and pregnant women to be particularly cautious. Most schools (few have air conditioning) are closed here in Amsterdam today.
As we went out for our usual morning coffee this morning, there were far fewer bicyclists, but otherwise, it felt normal.
Cool morning air in.
The Dutch are practical people.
Some will stay home with their children, or work from home, or switch to ¨tropical hours¨ that start earlier and end earlier.
They will wear appropriately lightweight clothing.
They will drink water.
They will not get caught up in alarmist conversations.
But they are smart and informed enough to recognize the meaning of this first Code Red ever.
And behind the scenes, they have been preparing for various scenarios forever.
In a country below sea level, they have spent hundreds of years learning how to make places more liveable by investing time and money into the feats of engineering.
Many ask why we chose The Netherlands as our new family home. And one reason is this logical commitment to improving what they can and creating ways to adapt to what they cannot.
So, even in the face of this heat weave across Europe, this first Code Red, and the someday threat of the collapse of the AMOC, which would likely put us into a deep freeze here, I want to be in a place with a history of making smart changes.
Like building canals everywhere—and not just in Amsterdam.
Living in a city crisscrossed by canals feels cooler, even on hot days.
Seeing water around every other corner is mentally refreshing.
Sure, like any city, there´s a lot of concrete, and brick buildings everywhere.
But there are parks and shady trees and restful places along the canals.
And I cannot express how much I appreciate all of it, because I have lived in places where it has been hard to feel comfortable.
I have lived on the Yucatan Peninsula, where it can be beastly hot and humid for months. Where ants create crisscrossing trails across your kitchen counters and floors no matter how vigilantly you scrub the tiles, and where mosquitoes carry potentially deadly viruses.
I have lived in northern Japan, where the snow reaches over the rooftops and buries your car daily in winter. Where your toothpaste and the water in your toilet freeze each night, and you have to be careful not to park your car under eaves where melting icicles can smash your windshield.
I have been through multiple earthquakes in Japan, hunkered down as a rare tornado rattled our roof in Uruguay, and worked through the worst-ever air pollution in China.
I have been through heat waves without electricity, freezing temperatures without heat, and ice storms that toppled trees and power lines, shutting down everything for days.
Floods. Fires. Droughts.
All of it has been preparation, and practice in adaptation.
Of course, I did not put myself in these particular conditions as an intentional form of suffering. But I certainly recognized that I would be stretching my comfort zone as part of my experience.
And I´m okay with that. In fact, I embrace it.
People everywhere will need to stretch their comfort zone. We will be required to adapt. And how we respond to being forced to do so will determine how well we are going to deal with the disruptions ahead.
There are those who say that we should keep ourselves as comfy as possible while we still can, but I prefer to see this time as a challenge to reduce what I need to feel comfortable.
And I invite you do try that, too, and see what you discover about yourself.
Because finding out that you can be just fine under a wide range of circumstances?
That builds confidence and resilience.
And figuring out how to actually ENJOY life, no matter what gets thrown at you?
Well, that´s the practice.
The other day, we were stunned to see kids as young as seven jumping from a local bridge into the canal below. (No, the water is not clean enough for that, but it was the jumping I was focused on.)
No life jackets.
No adults coaching them.
No one treading water below, waiting to rescue them.
While this was nerve-wracking to witness, it was also thrilling to see the kids pop up to the surface, laughing with delight. (All kids here are taught to swim at school. They´re also taught how to ride bikes safely in traffic, which is essential here.)
A couple of weeks ago, I saw two boys, no older than ten, in a battered kayak on one of the widest canals in our neighborhood.
No lifejackets.
Not a single adult within view—either on the water or along the canal sidewalks on either side—other than me.
And I know, because I looked around, wondering if I should alert someone.
I watched, nervously.
The boys splashed and played, tipped over on purpose, got upright again. On repeat.
All the while, they laughed.
I sat on a bench until they floated out of sight.
Thursday morning (older) crew on a different bridge over a different canal.
When most of us look back on our proudest moments, they are often about getting through tough times.
Things went wrong, but we got through them anyway.
Hardships made us marvel at our ability to manage.
We overcame the challenges we set for ourselves.
So it´s funny to me that we still cloak ourselves in comfort, even as we recognize that our remarkable capacity to endure and thrive shows up only when we are well out of our comfort zone.
All this to say that the heat we are experiencing is an invitation.
It´s a call to stretch our capacity.
This isn´t about intentional suffering.
It´s about pushing our imagined limits of what is comfortable, so that we can surprise ourselves with what we are capable of.
Because knowing we can adapt in a worst-ever heat wave gives us a sense of agency about what ELSE we can adapt to.
We become like those kids jumping into the canal for the first time and rising out of the water with a grin and a sense of accomplishment.
I welcome this nudge to adapt my ideas of what is safe. It´s another reason for our choice to be here.
I was a pretty relaxed parent back in the States—even for the 80s and 90s—but this is different.
You see, Dutch parents are notoriously hands-off, and the culture values resilience.
The playgrounds here appear, to newly-arrived American parents, like intentionally sue-worthy accident zones, with dizzying climbing towers and wildly-swinging zip lines.
The huge indoor state-of-the-art climbing wall centers here do not even offer harnesses. As my 6-year-old grandson explained, ¨If you fall, you hit the mat, and then just climb up again.”
Consequently, Dutch kids are next-level brave, independent, and resilient.
Also: in poll after poll, Dutch kids have been ranked as the happiest in the world.
For years.
So, I am paying attention to what I see, and to my own reactions to it.
And adapting, even as my six-year-old granddaughter has become a little too fascinated by her bridge-jumping peers.
PROMPT:
What can you let go of and still learn to be comfortable?
Delights
This week, I have been paying attention to what delights me. It´s my favorite practice, especially in the heat of summer, to pivot attention from discomfort toward what stirs gratitude.
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Getting a 3 euro bag of bulbs at Aldi months ago, throwing them into my neglected balcony planter, and forgetting about them yielded these blooming yellow lilies this week.
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My daughter shared this photo, explaining that the teachers at her son´s preschool gave each child a bag of toys ¨to wash¨ at home and return.
Shared responsibility for cleanliness… or master preschool teacher heat-wave home activity? Either way, as a former preschool teacher, I approve.
Whether you´re experiencing unusual heat in the North, or some other difficult physical circumstances elsewhere, what delight can you find amidst your discomfort this week?
Thank you for being here! I so appreciate you.
If you're feeling overwhelmed by all that's happening in the world and in your own life right now, I would love to hear from you.
I invite you to start a conversation with me here.
