The Restorative Benefits Of A Ponder Wander

Photo by Vlada Karpovich from Pexels

I interlaced my fingers and stretched my arms in front of me, blinking a few times in an attempt to clear my head. Where had all of this tension—in my shoulders, neck, and jaw—come from? Sure, “harnessing my focus” and “optimizing my productivity” by working for five hours without a break sounded great, until I had utterly lost the ability to think in complete sentences. Now, no amount of staring at my computer screen would make any more sense of the words there. It was time for a break. But what did I need in this moment, in order to feel rested?

I quickly ran through a list of contenders in my head: Read a book? Watch another episode of Gilmore Girls? Eat one of the seasonal snacks I just picked up from Trader Joe’s? Take a nap? Scroll Instagram? Stare at the wall?

Maybe because the waning daylight hours and flourishing fall foliage were quietly beckoning me to enjoy them while they lasted, maybe because I’d been sitting for so long that I just felt the desperate need to get moving somehow, and maybe because I had thought myself into a very tight corner, I concluded that what I needed was open space.

Cue the ponder wander. Lately, when I know that I need to offer myself some space to unwind, but I don’t know how to do that, I opt for the ponder wander, because it literally gives me space—outside—to breathe and simply be.

So I laced up my tennis shoes, threw on a puffy vest, put my AirPods in, and stepped outside into the crisp autumnal air.

I first stumbled across the term “ponder wander” in the description for a Spotify playlist created by a favorite Canadian folk-pop duo, Jay & Jo. Their use of the phrase evoked wide-open Canadian plains and swaths of sky big enough to hold all of one’s daydreaming. Living as I do in the metro area of D.C., it’s not an image I’m familiar with, but I nevertheless find myself craving an openness as an alternative to what can feel like such a regimented life: Wake up. Go to school. Read. Write. Send emails. Repeat.

To embark on a ponder wander is to give oneself space to exhale, and I’ve adopted the term in my own life to mean the following: “any of a series of leisurely walks, preferably taken during the golden hour and spent engaged in any or all of the following pursuits: dreaming, wishing, hoping, praying, musing, seeking beauty, giving thanks, sustaining wonder, etc.” Often—though not always—accompanied by gentle music or a thoughtful podcast, the ponder wander offers space for freely moving, flourishing, associative, creative thought.

We hear so much advice these days about how to hustle harder and wring as much productivity as we possibly can from our waking hours. But to work at such a breakneck pace is to take the fast lane to burnout. When we’ve had enough, we know that we need a break, but we often don’t know what kind of rest we need.

I’m embarrassed by how quickly I take to social media when I intuit that I need to rest, believing that when I can’t think anymore, it’s easier to consume something passively and simply let my brain veg out a little. But unsurprisingly, I find that after scrolling for twenty minutes, I hardly feel more rested. In fact, I usually feel more restless, tense, or frazzled.

The ponder wander, on the other hand, restores me by bringing me out into the world, to observe the changing seasons, to smile at neighbors, to befriend the hummingbirds and butterflies that dance around me, and to delight in the slow transformation of this world. These little journeys—whether they last twenty minutes or an hour—never fail to renew my spirit and refresh my perspective, and they often yield new creative ideas, too.

If you find the word “wander” bewildering and you feel that you need some structure, I get it. I’ve found that it can be helpful to choose the same familiar neighborhood route each day. It will still be fresh, because you’ll see new things all the time. Move slowly and pay close attention to the dogs in people’s front yards, the bright autumn leaves and the first buds of spring, the sound of children’s laughter through an open window, the feel of the crisp, early evening air on your face.

Other than that, you don’t need an agenda. It’s much better to see where the ponder wander takes you. And, friend, I hope it takes you on a little adventure that reawakens you to the ordinary wonder of this delightful world.