The other day, just before going into office again, I realised how summer becomes a flow of moments. The individual days blur together, and it’s surprisingly hard to remember one single day clearly. What stays with me instead are the colours, the atmosphere, the feeling of moving through slower days.

I remember the sound of the waves. The feeling of walking barefoot. Every morning eating breakfast outdoors. The taste of the berries. The showers otside.

Not because those were the biggest moments of the summer. Simply because my body remembers them.

As summer slowly comes to an end and everyday life returns, I find myself wondering: What remains in the body? What feelings, sensations and memories are still there? When autumn arrives, every day life returns, winter comes and the days grow darker—what is it that stays with us? Not to live in the past, but to savour what still rests in the body.

Is it the things that gave us energy? Is it the big celebration we spent weeks planning and preparing for? Or perhaps it is the anticipation before the celebration that we remember most. What we carry with us is rarely a perfect record of what happened.

A spontaneous bike ride because everyone happened to be together.

The sand between our toes.

The view from the top of a mountain.

What are the moments that settle in the body, becoming something we can return to when autumn feels busy?

I’m not talking about the hundreds of photographs we took to help us remember.

I’m wondering what the body remembers.

Perhaps it isn’t what we expected.

Perhaps it isn’t what we planned.

Maybe it is just a single moment that quietly stays with us.

A completely ordinary moment where everything simply felt right.

Natural.

Effortless.

Perhaps it isn’t the evening when everything looked perfect. The moments where we have most photos from.

Perhaps it’s waking from an afternoon nap feeling deeply rested, with no other needs calling for your attention.

The moments that continue to nourish us long after they have passed.

The moments that arrive when we pause.

When we breathe.

When we stop planning.

When we stop rushing.

Perhaps those are the moments that come most naturally.

The ones that are there when we lift our gaze.

Look out.

Breathe.