slowing down
Yesterday and today were a study of contrasts. Yesterday I was restless, couldn’t hardly sit still, it was definitely worse after I got home than it was at work, where I couldn’t hardly sit still anyway. Watching part of The Matrix helped, but it didn’t last long. I had an unpleasant dream last night… I can’t say nightmare, because it wasn’t frightening, but I would have been better off without it, I think. I kinda picked up where I left off this morning until I got to visit Riverbanks.
I got my grocery shopping out of the way early, but not early enough to get to Riverbanks until almost half hour after they open. I like to be there when they open, being the first down the woodland trail. I can’t really explain why, I haven’t figured it out myself yet. I noticed a lot of the roses are blooming again, nothing like a little late season intoxication to clear the mind. After wandering through the rose garden, I walked down the woodland trail to the river overlook. I spent a while there writing on my next story, which I hope to have completed in the next week or two.
I’m not sure what it is, but there’s something about being outside, being around trees that lets me decompress. My home is my sanctuary, but even it doesn’t allow me to unwind like I do when I’m outdoors. When I left, I felt more put together, more whole, less overwhelmed. That’s the main disadvantage to being at home: I see everything I want to do around here, and I feel like there’s a cosmic clock ticking and I’m behind schedule somehow.
Maybe it’s just the perspective of it all… If I could quit my job tomorrow and write full time, I would. Goddess knows I’ve got enough ideas to keep me writing for several years, maybe longer. Get a laptop and start spending a lot of time outside typing. Maybe I’d just keep writing in my notebook and transfer it to a computer when I finish like I sometimes do. At the risk of sounding old-fashioned, there’s just something about writing with a pen and paper that can’t be duplicated by a computer. Sure, I can duplicate the look, but it’s a very different experience writing with a pen and typing on a keyboard. It just feels, well, more human, more natural. Maybe it’s just that there weren’t any pc’s when I was growing up. I’ve always liked fine writing instruments, and I want to get a fountain pen again. I had one once and loved writing with it.
I keep coming back to the trees. Because they live longer than I will, sometimes much longer, they feel more solid, slower changing than I am, and I think that rubs off on me. Maybe it’s time to think about researching what kind of tree I could grow indoors to bring that feeling more strongly inside. It could be difficult, but if I could figure it out, it’d be worth it. If I could keep the cats out of it.
Enough of that tangent. My point is that there’s some part of me that slows down and comes out when I’m outdoors in a place I like, a very different part most people don’t see. I will have to work harder to cultivate that part of me.
The other thing I’ve noticed, is that I get that way when I get too far away from routine. I haven’t meditated in thge morning for at least 3 weeks, I haven’t been to jujitsu class regularly since the spring, and the Reiki and massage are definitely deteriorating, or at least not growing. Looks like I need to reconsider some priorities.