Things that make you really feel ALIVE
Jun. 26th, 2009 04:04 pmDamn, I love it when something really makes you feel alive. Even if it's soul-ripping grief, there's almost a rush to that sense of totally being right here, right now, alive, right down to your bones.
A couple recent examples:
a) Last night, during a period of sprinkling rain, I went into the backyard to pick fruit from my very own raspberry bush. While I was squatted down picking, it changed from a sprinkle to a downpour. Being in touch with the elements always makes me feel really alive. Those berries were the sweeter and tarter for having come from my own soil, picked in a rush of rain.
b) I've been doing research on local "Pick your own" farms and have been talking to a lot of farmers. Most of them (with a couple exceptions) are pretty small operations, with farmers who are old, wrinkled rangy men. They have been incredibly kind to me, telling me jokes, driving me around their farms, teaching me about gooseberries and the dozens of varieties of apples. I even got to meet a llama today!
So much of the time, I've remarked, I feel guilty. No matter what I'm doing, I feel like I should be doing something else. If I'm doing housework or yardwork, I'm resentful or wishing I was sitting around reading a book or reading LJ. When I'm lazing around playing solitaire or reading a book, I think I should be doing housework or doing some paying writing/editing work. When I'm doing my freelance writing, no matter what project I'm on, I think I should be doing more on another one, or that I should be getting some housework done.
It's taken me a while, but I really think that -- at least for me, maybe for a lot of people-- the inability to be here now is the major root of anxiety. That's why doing yoga or focusing on your breathing often works, and probably why sex is such a good de-stresser. I have to say that while walking around in the sun smelling apples and tasting fruit and stooping to pick sugar snap peas and talking to 80-year-old farmers, I had very little time or mental energy to focus on anything else. I was present and relaxed. It was awesome.
I need to cultivate more of those moments in my life.
A couple recent examples:
a) Last night, during a period of sprinkling rain, I went into the backyard to pick fruit from my very own raspberry bush. While I was squatted down picking, it changed from a sprinkle to a downpour. Being in touch with the elements always makes me feel really alive. Those berries were the sweeter and tarter for having come from my own soil, picked in a rush of rain.
b) I've been doing research on local "Pick your own" farms and have been talking to a lot of farmers. Most of them (with a couple exceptions) are pretty small operations, with farmers who are old, wrinkled rangy men. They have been incredibly kind to me, telling me jokes, driving me around their farms, teaching me about gooseberries and the dozens of varieties of apples. I even got to meet a llama today!
So much of the time, I've remarked, I feel guilty. No matter what I'm doing, I feel like I should be doing something else. If I'm doing housework or yardwork, I'm resentful or wishing I was sitting around reading a book or reading LJ. When I'm lazing around playing solitaire or reading a book, I think I should be doing housework or doing some paying writing/editing work. When I'm doing my freelance writing, no matter what project I'm on, I think I should be doing more on another one, or that I should be getting some housework done.
It's taken me a while, but I really think that -- at least for me, maybe for a lot of people-- the inability to be here now is the major root of anxiety. That's why doing yoga or focusing on your breathing often works, and probably why sex is such a good de-stresser. I have to say that while walking around in the sun smelling apples and tasting fruit and stooping to pick sugar snap peas and talking to 80-year-old farmers, I had very little time or mental energy to focus on anything else. I was present and relaxed. It was awesome.
I need to cultivate more of those moments in my life.