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Joanna Gaines is calling us to lead a life more ordinary—and relish in it. So much so that she devoted the summer 2026 issue of Magnolia Journal to the topic. Meanwhile, an entire social media movement took off dedicated to having a “Jack Johnson summer,” or—as it was jokingly put, “Jackmaxxing“—where you take in a slower pace of life, savoring the simple things, like the salt on your skin after a day at the beach. Or listening to “Banana Pancakes” on loop.
It’s the sort of practice I can get behind; after all, this entire website is devoted to that concept. Some of the best parts of life are lived in the little, in-between moments; the unassuming Tuesday night, where you turn on the sprinklers and run through them with the kids, chasing fireflies and the ice cream truck, not caring if that lazy-eyed Spongebob pop melts all over your hands. Or the 15-minute phone call with a friend where you trade workplace war stories and laugh until you snort.
So why is it so hard to achieve this summer?
For the longest time, home was my happy place. Right now, it’s a source of stress, uncertainty and floundering. My dad’s been in and out of the hospital. Our nerves are all raw as we’re continually reminded that the road to recovery is anything but smooth. It’s a step forward, a stumble backward. A leap; a punch in the gut.
For someone who so deeply believes our lives deserve to be bigger than our to-do lists, I feel trapped in my to-do list.
In between, I’m racing to camp drop-offs, doing lice and tick checks, trying to figure out ways to get my rental rented—and fix up a multitude of issues, from repainting the patio to refinishing the tub.
For someone who so deeply believes our lives deserve to be bigger than our to-do lists, I feel trapped in my to-do list. Both as a sanctuary from worry—it’s something I can control, after all—and just that there’s so much to do, and not nearly enough time to do it all in.
I find myself so grateful for the life I’m living, and yet jealous of the international adventures dominating my Instagram feed. I tell myself I’m right with Joanna: “The distance between ordinary and extraordinary is a matter of outlook,” she shares in her essay, “Chasing the Ordinary.”
In the classic “two things can be true at once” belief, I’m wrestling with a range of emotions, acknowledging they can exist simultaneously. As I work through them, I try to find the glimmers of joy.
On the commute, while I’m making dinner or helping my daughter with a paper craft (side note: Is anyone else’s kid obsessed with making paper squishies and toys these days?), I’m trying to stay present and note the little things. Beyond research showing that appreciating these little moments—a cotton candy-hued sunset, an impromptu dance party to Chicky Milky’s bizarre earworm, “That’s Just My Baby Doge“—can reduce stress and make life feel more expansive, I fully realize these are the moments that make up a life.
While the New York Times wrote it off as a desire to “ride a consciousness-obliterating sensation longer than it actually lasts,” I’d argue people drawn to Johnson’s lifestyle are seeking a return to savoring what we have, while we have it.
And they’re often the moments you remember years later, with more sparkling clarity than the five-star hotel stay or the big cruise. Those things are amazing, definitely, but I like the question Gaines posits in her essay: “What if the part that truly thrilled us was the connection we felt?”
That’s what I’m after. That’s what those beautifully mundane moments are all about: connection. It’s not flashy; it’s real. That’s the true appeal of “Jackmaxxing” this summer. While the New York Times wrote it off as a desire to “ride a consciousness-obliterating sensation longer than it actually lasts,” I’d argue people drawn to Johnson’s lifestyle—or any bucolic, simpler pace—are seeking a return to savoring what we have, while we have it, with the people who matter most to us. We’re ready to get off the hamster wheel of one-upmanship that social media presents.
In a world that calls us to scroll, scroll, scroll—to disassociate and disconnect when life feels intense—taking a moment to appreciate the moments of awe within our ordinary, day-to-day lives and use that as our dopamine hit instead can be a more meaningful way to recharge. It won’t get a bunch of likes, but it will create some core memories.
