It's Hot: Mindfulness of Heat and Humidity

By Jonathan Kaplan, Ph.D.

It's hot and humid, and I'm poised to be leaving for a meditation retreat for a few days.  Before I leave, I wanted to say a few words about the weather lately.

In NYC, it's been unseasonably hot. We’re sweaty, sticky, and uncomfortable, which provides a wonderful opportunity for complaining. For some reason, we almost compulsively need to let other people know just how dissatisfied we are. Indeed, I think it constitutes a bonding experience for many people. At such times--whenever we feel distressed in some way--we have a natural tendency to dwell on it both mentally and in conversation. And, correspondingly, these “bad” things take on extra weight and importance. It’s easy to neglect other aspects of the present moment that are (1) going well and (2) neither good nor bad. Further, we can (3) gloss over subtle variations in the “badness” of what we complain about.

Things Going Well?

So, what might be going well on a hot and humid day? Many things! You might even be inside, enjoying a cool breeze from the air conditioner, yet you’re complaining about the weather? In that moment, you’re actually feeling just fine...if you let yourself feel it. It reminds me of an observation from the Zen monk, Thich Nhat Hahn, who noted the pleasantness of not having a toothache.  And for us New Yorkers, who hasn't appreciated the cool, air conditioned cars of the subway?

Further, there are many nice things associated with late summer. How about tomatoes and other warm weather crops, like corn, cucumbers, peppers? Farmers markets and grocery stores abound with all kinds of delicious goodies. And, because they’re in season, they are also less expensive than other times of the year. Appreciating crops might not be a particular “in the moment” experience, at least until you’re enjoying a tasty caprese or eating corn that you don’t need to cook because it’s so sweet. (If I can be permitted to summon my inner gardener as an aside:  for both of these vegetables, you should eat them ASAP. Tomatoes taste sweetest at the instant they’re sliced; even a half-hour can introduce some bitterness. Corn, in turn, slowly becomes starchy after it’s picked. Ideally, you would eat it on the same day.  Don't believe me?  Then, do some mindful eating experiments!)

Neutrality isn’t just for the Swiss

And things that are neither good nor bad (or both)? There’s a lot of that, too. The color of my neighbor’s car is not particularly important to me, for example. Like the humidity, it’s very real, especially as I walk by. What’s a better place to be mentally? Cursing the weather or simply noting the car’s paint job?

Subtle Shades of Crappy

Often, we aggrandize or over-emphasis our distress in ways that preclude noticing variations in our experience. We tell ourselves that something is awful, then we miss out on something that might be as bad as we think. For example, one of the exercises in Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction, a therapy program for chronic pain developed by Dr. Jon Kabat-Zinn, involves a careful, slow body scan. Through this process, people are able to recognize that many areas of their body feel just fine. Similarly, in summertime, we might miss the somatic experience of walking into shade, if we’re too preoccupied by damning the harsh sunlight.

Hey, isn’t mindfulness about “nonjudging”? What’s all this talk of “good” and “bad”?

Yes, mindfulness is all about accepting the present moment without judgment, criticism, or even celebration. We simply rest our attention on our immediate experience. In doing so, we help avoid the chronic cycle of resisting what’s painful and holding onto what’s enjoyable.  So, please forgive my brief use of judgmental language for the sake of linguistic convenience (and making it to my retreat on time).  In any case, I encourage you to bring your full attention to whatever you’ve prejudged to be good or bad, like the hot and humid weather. Allow yourself to see other aspects of the experience that might run counter to what you expected. Through this practice, we begin to broaden our awareness of what’s happening now, and ultimately develop a more nuanced appreciation for the ephemeral nature of life.

For the next several days, I will be "unplugged" for the first time in over 3 years:  no internet, no e-mail, and no voicemail.  I'll share my reflections on the experience when I return.