Stop, disconnect, tune off, tune out, slip away, go on vacation, daydream, or simply just take time to act like a kid. Sit on the front porch after a morning rain and listen to the birds sing their rejoicing chirping, wordless songs as they celebrate the rain and simply relaxing. They aren’t hunting food…they are just enjoying.
Then there is the rain puddle…shoes off, jump and splash until you are laughing hysterically…you are as wet as high as you can splash…don’t worry about dinner…just enjoy.
Oh that life was that easy. You see…it doesn’t rain that much here in the summer, but when it does… I’m not a bird that can just ignore the work that needs to be done but I can ignore enough of it when I get in the mood to just chirp.
Yes, I do need to unplug from time to time and find a way to relax…but what to do…what to do. My daughter suggested that I try Yoga. “It’ll relax you and stretch you out in so many wonderful and delightful ways.”
I have heard this from many Yoga enthusiasts. They letting me know how healthy it is to mentally take a vacation…difficult to do when parts of your body that you didn’t know existed are screaming in agony. “Downward Dog,” intones the instructor…let your mind wander.” Yeah right! The only place my mind is wandering to is the hot tub that is calling me from the other side of the gym. “Relax and let your Chee flow.” And I faithfully realize that the only thing that is flowing is my face directly into the too thin exercise mat that is supposed to make me more comfortable. My many times broken nose is still wondering how this is going to be possible to survive being broken again as my entire 6 feet of 190 pounds of stretched out body is going to be cushioned by this 1/8 inch piece of compressed foam. And it finds out it is grateful that, although my body has lost the muscle tone of my earlier years, my brain has not lost the survival instinct and aversion to pain it has always had.
Crisis averted I roll up my mat, inform my still Yogaing wife that I am headed to the hot tub to let the forceful jets and bubbling hot water take me to Zen-land and take a water assisted ride to the transcendental meditation zone that the Yoga-mobile has not afforded me.
So now, with my body to my chin gently submerged in the torrents of jet-propelled hot water I let Calgone take me away.
I think tomorrow I will stop, disconnect, tune off, tune out, slip away, go on vacation and daydream that I have picked up a bucket of worms, that will be supported by one of the corks from Aunt Bee’s remedy bottle, attached the fishing line and hook to my cane poll and leave Mayberry on the dirt road following Andy and Opey to the crawdad hole.
Maybe I’ll even whistle a tune and skip a rock or two.