Be Well

Living Well in This Season

Dear friends,

The neighborhood pool finally reopened after being closed for several years. It’s only four blocks from our house, close enough that it’s easy to decide to go. A summer pass costs just $20—and, for the first time in my life, I confidently asked for the senior rate. No one asked for proof of age. Apparently, I now simply look eligible. I wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or cry. I decided to laugh.

I’ve been thinking about that pool more than I expected.

The new Homewood Pool. Yes, somedays it is just me and the lifeguards for adult lap swim at noon!

Not because it’s especially beautiful or remarkable (though it is), but because it’s easy.

And I’ve been reminded, once again, that the best exercise isn’t yoga or swimming or walking or lifting weights.

The best exercise is the one we actually do.

As I’ve gotten older, I’m becoming less interested in ideal wellness plans and more interested in sustainable ones.

Less friction.
More life.

This summer’s heat has reinforced the lesson. Without air conditioning, I’ve become something of a student of my own house—moving between floors in search of the coolest place to sit, read, or lie beneath a fan during the hottest part of the day. Twenty years ago I probably would have pushed through. These days I'm learning that listening to my body isn't laziness; it's wisdom. Wisdom, it turns out, sometimes comes with a fan, a cool drink, and a window air conditioner.

That seems to be one of the gifts of getting older. We stop asking, “What’s the perfect thing to do?” and start asking, “What’s the wise thing to do today?”

Around My World

One unexpected delight came while I was tackling a decidedly unglamorous project: reorganizing my filing system, purging old papers, and—heaven forbid—parting with a few keepsakes.

For weeks I’ve been sorting, filing, recycling, and gradually reducing the piles that seemed to have taken on a life of their own. My goal is simple: when I need something, I’d like to know exactly where to find it.

In the middle of all that decluttering, I rediscovered a pair of webbed resistance gloves.

The funny part?

They’re the same gloves I used when I taught water aerobics—twenty-seven years ago, long before yoga became my life’s work.

Apparently I sort of knew where they were.

They’ve found a second life at the neighborhood pool, where I’ve been rediscovering upper-body workouts in the water. My shoulders quickly reminded me that enthusiasm and conditioning are not the same thing. I may have overestimated what twenty-seven-year-old muscles remembered!

I also enjoyed spending two hours as a student in a restorative yoga class this month. After years of teaching, it’s always a gift to be guided by someone else. There is a different kind of learning that happens when we allow ourselves simply to receive.

Doug and I also enjoyed our two annual family reunions at Clear Creek State Park and Cook Forest. Towering trees, cool streams, shared meals, familiar faces—some of whom we see only once a year. There is something deeply restorative about gathering outdoors where conversations seem to unfold at the pace of the forest.

Nothing like cold, fresh spring water at Cook Forest, PA

Another thing I’ve noticed lately is how much I treasure one-on-one conversations. Coffee with a friend. Dinner. A quiet drink together. Afternoon tea. Groups certainly have their place, but there is something about sitting across from one person with nowhere to be that allows people to tell the stories beneath the stories.

Perhaps that’s another gift of this season of life: valuing depth over quantity.

On My Nightstand

This month I’m reading Whistler by Ann Patchett and Slow Theology by A.J. Swoboda and Nijay K. Gupta.

They are very different books, yet both are inviting me to pay closer attention and resist the constant pressure to hurry.

I’m curious what books are keeping you company this summer. Feel free to hit “reply” and let me know.

Conversations to Die For

One of the highlights of last month was our first Conversations to Die For gathering.

More than twenty people joined us for an evening of thoughtful, honest conversation about aging, mortality, and living well. I left encouraged by the openness in the room and reminded that many people are longing for spaces where these conversations can happen without fear or awkwardness.

This month we’re trying something a little different.

Our next gathering will be held Thursday, July 30, from 2:00–3:30 p.m. at Breezeway House. We’re experimenting with an afternoon time to see if it makes the conversation accessible to people who can’t attend evening events.

If you’ve been thinking about coming, perhaps this month will be your opportunity.

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As I look back over July, I’m struck by how ordinary most of it has been.

A neighborhood pool.

Twenty-seven-year-old gloves.

A fan on a hot afternoon.

Coffee with a friend.

Family gathered beneath tall trees.

A good novel.

A folder finally put in the right place.

None of these moments would make headlines.

Yet together they remind me that a good life is usually built from small acts of attention rather than grand accomplishments.

Perhaps living well isn’t about doing more.

Perhaps it’s about noticing—and embracing—the life that’s already right in front of us.

Staying Connected

If you’d like to learn more about my books, events, retreats, speaking, spiritual direction, yoga therapy, you’ll find everything here (or hit “reply” to this email):

Website: JoanneSpence.com

Subscribe: joannespence.substack.com/subscribe

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Thank you for reading — and for being part of this community.

Live well. Be well.

Joanne