become stuck in a world of (mostly) pleasurable stress. Summer, as we’ve seen, is a great time, both literally and metaphorically. It’s a period of long days and short nights, brimming with activity and stimulation. It’s when the neurochemical stimulation of hormones and neurotransmitters like dopamine lead us to gorge on sugary, carbohydrate-dense fruits. And that’s biologically normal… in the seasonal context.
But following our organization into sedentary civilizations after the agricultural revolution (ca. 10,000 BC), we gradually abandoned any seasonal oscillations, and have had a hard time making the annual pivot to fall-type behavior. Once we started cultivating grain and other agricultural plants, carbohydrate-rich foods became available all year long and eventually formed the backbone of our “civilized” diets. Following the industrial revolution a few hundred years ago, highly processed, high glycemic index, sugary foodstuffs became continually available as well. As I said, it’s normal for us to crave such foods when experiencing the stress of summer. Those cravings are appropriate responses to short-term stressors. Unfortunately, many of us never switch out of summer mode, meaning we live for years or even decades preferring and actually building our entire food system around the carbohydrate-centered diet of summer.
Many of our modern ills arise from our entrenchment in a perpetual summer mode. Take sleep, for example. When we expose ourselves to artificial lights in our office buildings, fluorescent lights in grocery stores, and the blue wavelength lights (such as those emitted by our phone and computer screens) that potently disrupt our normal circadian rhythms, we give our brains the message that it’s daytime, and it’s summertime. The quantity and quality of our sleep both suffer, causing our bodies to crave quick energy in the form of carbohydrates. Yes, disrupted circadian rhythms contribute to sugar cravings. When we’re bathed in disruptive artificial light, especially after the sun has set, it becomes increasingly difficult to hear the deeply intuitive part of our bodies saying, “Hey, it’s wintertime, go for the nourishing beef stew instead of the soda and chocolate muffin you’re eyeing.”
And that drowning out of intuition and satiety signaling leads us directly to overeating and obesity. When our rhythmic ancestors overate sugary fruits and seasonal plants, displacing some dietary fats and complete animal protein sources, it made sense because seasonal summer stress made us neurochemically inclined to prefer energy-dense, sugary foods over complete, more deeply satiating dietary proteins and healthy fat sources. But whole foods containing complete proteins and fats aren’t just great to consume because they are nutrient dense—they are also the most satiating of the macronutrients, and as such they suppress our natural hunger signals more effectively than the same number of calories from carbohydrates. Overeating carbohydrate-laden foods, especially carbohydrates from refined, low-nutrient sources, year upon year, leads to the dysregulation of our appetites and metabolism, setting us up for more cravings and overconsumption. Our bodies become chronically inflamed, metabolically deranged, overweight, and chronically diseased as a result. A chronic summer diet causes chronic disease.
It’s easy to get there because, let’s face it, transitioning from summer to fall is hard. It’s tough to tear ourselves away from the fun and frenzy of the summer’s Las Vegas Strip and settle into autumn’s quiet cabin in the woods. This makes sense intuitively and neurochemically: expansion and excitement is so much more neurochemically motivating and rewarding than contraction and restfulness. In today’s world, summer is the expansive action phase, whereas the contraction phase requires more attentiveness and self-awareness to implement. In the natural world, it simply happens as a part of the whole cycle, but in today’s world, we need to deliberately reintroduce contraction phases, as well as reframe contraction as balancing, stabilizing, and healthy. When’s the last time you heard a positive news headline detailing how excited everyone was about a contracting stock market or smaller company earnings? Expansion is crucial. Think about what would have happened to our hunter-gatherer ancestors if they were not neurochemically motivated to explore, take risks, or seek novelty: they would have stayed in one safe and quiet place, depleted their resources, and probably starved to death. We needed the neurochemical motivation of dopamine and the performance enhancement of adrenaline to act, take risks, learn new things, explore the world… and survive. But problems arise when we don’t confine such action to the appropriate season, or when we don’t stop exploring. Like a seafaring explorer, we need to return home to port periodically, or else we’re simply perpetually lost at sea, running low on supplies and feeling disconnected from our roots.
Let’s not forget: while dopamine and adrenaline are pleasurable, they also cause us to become shortsighted and self-centered. They give us focus on the challenge or scenario at hand, but they also put blinders on us—blinders to other perspectives, other people, other ways of being. This is partly why drug addicts often lose track of practical aspects of their lives; they get hyperfocused on destructive neurochemical patterns. These neurochemical stimuli might feel amazing in the moment, but they don’t lead us to plan wisely for the future or reflect deeply on the past. They don’t facilitate broad, integrated thinking, or peaceful introspection. I don’t know about you, but being stuck in summer is exhausting too. Don’t you often feel like a lot of parents do at the end of the summer, wondering when the kids will go back to school so you can get a break? We often look forward to the fall for the shorter days, which mean earlier bedtimes. If that sounds familiar, you aren’t alone. Many of us, myself included, have the perpetual sense of being frazzled and run-down, but we tell ourselves that we can’t just stop in the middle of the madness (unless we get an illness, which is often the body’s way of saying, “Hey, I really need some more caring attention over here!”). The feeling of being overextended is one that many of us carry for years and decades. You might not even recognize it anymore because you’ve lived with late summer exhaustion for so long. But if that’s how you’re feeling, take note: that’s not okay. If it feels out of balance, that’s because it is.
Breaking Free of Summer—and Getting in Tune
Many of us can at least partially identify with Kim’s life—I know I have at various points in my life. Let’s say that I only had an hour to consult with her. This is how I’d begin our journey together. I’d introduce her to the simple concept of expansion and contraction, of seasonal change, and encourage her to begin to develop a rotating or oscillating mind-set. When it comes to her social interactions, I’d encourage her to think of ways she and her family could slow down and be present with one another at some moments, while still pursuing activity and stimulation at others. Kim needn’t do anything radical. She could start with simply spending more time with her kids, bracketing out some time to talk about everyone’s day, or maybe even suggest meditating as a family. The larger point for her and for all of us is to jump right in and start experimenting—and not just with restoring rhythmicity to our social interactions, but to our eating, movement, and sleep as well. It doesn’t matter where we begin. So long as we begin somewhere, we’ll gradually become more aware of our innate patterns, and how to honor them.
The summer-to-fall pivot is a confronting, surprising, and even counterintuitive transition. But as I’m going to suggest in this book, although we might like the stimulation and fun of summer, we might also feel a little hollow or empty inside from always being in this mode. As a result, nudging ourselves back little by little to some fall and winter behavior can prove to be healing and deeply satisfying. Kim, for example, probably doesn’t want to go to wine and cheese with the girls every week, because she’s exhausted. She might not want to attend all her children’s classmates’ birthday parties, although she might feel subtle pressure to do so. Sometimes we gravitate to larger social events and welcome the opportunity to attend or host grand occasions. But we can only know if this is what we really want, and not simply ingrained routine or social expectation, when we slow down and check in with our innermost desires. When we give ourselves permission to slow down, contract, and connect more meaningfully, intimately, and vulnerably with a smaller circle of loved ones, we usually experience a degree of relief from the perceived expectations to do everything all the time.
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