By Charlotte Keesey
“Uh-huh, that sounds good...,” my voice trailed off distractedly as I stared into the cool spring evening. My long-time friend and neighbor, Lisa, tapped her fingers against a cool lemonade glass.
“Sounds good? Wilson's dog breaking into my garden and digging up all the tulips sounds good? Are you okay? You seem a million miles away.” Lisa peered at me and I noticed her as if for the first time since we sat down for a “cool, relaxing drink”.
“Oh, sorry Lis, I'm just distracted. Charlie's not doing so well at school, he got called into the principal's office for talking back again. And somehow this month's budget's been blown on who knows what! Plus I'm worried about my new boss and...shoot, did I remember to buy laundry detergent?!” I looked anxiously through the house window from the porch.
“Mel, one thing at a time, you look like you're going to explode! You know, you've seemed really distracted for a while now.” Lisa put a gentle hand on my shoulder. I tried to relax with a deep breath and looked at Lisa.
“I'm sorry, I know! I feel so anxious, all the time I can't seem to relax and enjoy myself even when I do have the time!”
“You need a break, a real break. You can drive to our log cabin for the weekend, but you aren't allowed to drive yourself crazy with all these worries. I'm going to write out a list of 'rules' for you and activities and you have to follow them Mel, okay? I'll pack your bag,” she grinned. I was too exhausted to protest.
So, the next day I pulled up to the sunny log cabin after a two-hour drive. Unfortunately, those two hours were so full of voices in my head I couldn't even focus on the beautiful scenery. These voices were saying things like, “Is Peter really okay watching after Charlie on his own? Will he actually cook dinner or just order unhealthy things like pizza? Oh, the bills need to get done so I should get back early Sunday, maybe Saturday.”
I stepped out of the car into the cool early Friday evening. Sitting inside on a large, comfy chair I kicked off my shoes and settled into cross-legged position. Unfolding the instructions from Lisa, I read, “Take three deep breaths.” Yeah right, I'd tried that a million times before. Nevertheless, I closed my eyes and inhaled. A fresh pine scent filled my lungs.
“Take a walk completely alone in nature,” the instructions went on. “As you walk clear your mind of all voices. First, just listen to the voices around you and don't forget to breath deeply. Then, sit and try focusing on one thing, something positive not worrisome. A fun hobby or a wonderful place where you were happy and time seemed to stand still. Listen more deeply. Not to the nagging voices in your head, but to your heart. "Well, this is a bit cheesy, I thought, but what else have I got to do out here?" Lisa had made me promise not to use the cell unless it was an emergency. And of course there was no Internet or television.
I walked through the pine forest behind the cabin. The air was cool and fresh of sap and pungent pine. I focused on what I saw, noticing the evening light coming through the branches, casting a dappled pattern on the trunks and ground. A group of violet butterflies fluttered by. Well, this was nice, but suddenly the voice came again. “What am I going to say to the principal about Charlie? Should Pete and I sit down and talk to him? What should we say?” I shook my head, no. This would not do. I found a fallen log across a small creek just past the pines. With my eyes closed I listened, not to the voice but to the sounds of nature; the gentle rippling of the creek and slight creaking of the pine branches rubbing together in the breeze. A noisy insect buzzed by and a bird cawed in the distance.
Okay, now to focus on something happy, hmmm. I had always wanted to pick up painting again. An old dream popped into my mind. When Peter and I were first married, I was determined to have an art show at the local coffee shop. I'd even created several pieces. Where were those now? In the basement? How excited I'd been about it, and how happy I'd been painting the newly planted rose bushes in the back yard. I even remembered the smell of fresh oil paint, and the feel of my hair gently brushing my face in the breeze.
Sighing, I stared into the creek. There didn't seem so much time for this kind of thing now with Charlie and work and needing to make sure finances were in order. I walked back feeling calmer but a little disheartened. Taking out the list just outside the cabin I read the next instruction. “Now act on this happy thought. Draw that special place, or do that hobby that brings you joy. Involve your thoughts and spirits completely. No worrisome thoughts!” I grabbed the bag packed by Lisa, and was amazed to see my oil paints and art paper. I smiled. She knew me too well.
That evening I didn't hear a single worrisome voice, but only listened to my inner heart and painted. I was so involved that I was shocked to look up at the clock and see it was almost 1a.m. I couldn't remember the last time I'd stayed up so late unless it was stressing about something! My stomach reminded me it'd been hours since it was fed, so I looked through the kitchen. I whipped up some delicious pasta with tomato and basil sauce and found a bottle of red wine. I couldn't remember when I'd felt so relaxed and carefree.
I stayed until Sunday, and didn't even get back until the evening. After several more walks, listening to nature, I'd been inspired to create a total of five pieces! The drive home was filled with watching the scenery through the open window, my hair tickling my face and neck. I came home to Peter and Charlie finishing a home-cooked meal of chicken, potatoes and broccoli. I met up with Lisa after dinnertime. I listened the whole time, and no inner voice interrupted. “I'm determined this will last,” I told her after describing the weekend, “And be ready for that art show in one month!” Lisa smiled and hugged me.
“Welcome back,” she said softly.
By Charlotte Keesey, a freelancer
