The body was meant to sweat. Sweat and relax. Work and decompress. I do more eating and commuting these days than anything else, but still – I remember the feeling. It’s coming back to me like riding a bike. The feeling of giving over to physical exhaustion.
Mental exhaustion is another thing entirely. Mental exhaustion is when you’ve worked a puzzle in your head so many times that you literally need to stare off into space. Which is a real thing, by the way, staring off into space – it’s a proven way for your brain to take five.
Physical decompressing is something different. Your muscles give way. Right now, I’m lying in a hammock and I can feel it in my lower back – a loosening, an openness. I haven’t earned this feeling, but I’m so glad my body is giving over to it anyway.
That’s the other thing we’re missing when we’re moving and commuting and working and preoccupied with nonsense. With our minds trained on other things, there’s little to zeroj tune-in to the body itself. At the moment, I’m feeling – deliciously – the opposite. I can feel the throb of my neck muscle and then the release. The tension in my forearms and shoulder blades as I write this. I’m totally and completely aware of it all. My eyes are in a half stare because I don’t really need them right now. My stomach – loose and relaxed, the lower back almost mimicking it in a quest to win, “most chilled out body part.” Just the the telling of this physical inventory makes my whole body stretch.
My legs are cradled in the hammock giving me no trouble at all, one perched over the other. Two delightful snausages happy to be out on the counter.
I’m outside and realize that I’ve been longing for this. Craving some distance from the fluorescent lighting, computer screens, and tight fiber, rugs. I’m craving the beach and blue skies and this tree in front of me, well, it’s just about perfect right now. It’s huge. Maybe 100 feet in the air. It’s leaves are inter-mingling with another tree’s. It doesn’t give a toot. It just does and sways and reflects a vibrant green.
The dog is eating everything in sight. Rocks. Leaves. He is the only disruption out of my reverie. I’m swinging gently as I watch him tear a track through the backyard from left to right and right to left again. He’s got so much energy and I love to watch him run.
It will get too hot at one point and this perfectness will go away. It’s starting to happen now, the shade is creeping back towards the house. Soon my little blissful swath of the universe will be too oppressive. The sun will chase me back toward shelter and shade. But, now, now, it’s perfect. There’s a slight breeze making me feel like Madonna ponying up to an ultra-hip and expensive oxygen bar. Only I don’t have to pay for it and I don’t have to deal with poser douchebags cruising the ladies with over priced drinks and bad conversation. The only douchebags here are the occasional gnat. And they’re easy to deal with – a swat and they’re gone.
My old lady dog has come over for some lovings. I lazily reach down and knuckle the inside of her ear in those wide circles she enjoys. There’s peace at the suburban villa.
I never knew I’d like this all so much. The city girl turned homeowner, hammock-swinger, but it suits me just fine.
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treeonbeach, sausages, hammock