I have to set aside some time for myself. Not today though. I don’t have time and I’m too tired. Maybe tomorrow, if I have time and I’m not too tired, I’ll give myself some time to myself.
I don’t quite remember what it was about that particular Tuesday afternoon, but I’d had it.
That’s it. I’m going off-grid, right now until happy hour, maybe even 6pm!
There’s a township park around here somewhere- that’ll work.
I don’t have to be reachable every minute of every day for Chrissakes! I’m not that important.
I need to be among trees for a little while, and I just want to be left alone.
I turned into the mostly empty lot, parked, pulled out my phone and…. wait for it… I turned it off. Really. I mean, slide-to-power-off, off.
And I left it in the car. How ‘bout that?
Stomping off with my hot pink yoga mat, I was in search of a specific sort of spot - the hidden kind. I soon came upon the perfect little alcove, right under and between two big beautiful evergreens. There weren’t many people in the park for such a lovely spring day, and they were nice and far away. I folded my mat in half and laid it upon a section of dried leaves and tiny twigs, sat myself into a highly modified cross-legged pose, and began to try to settle.
I’d redeveloped a habit of holding my breath. I vaguely remember doing this when I was younger- just holding it in for no particular reason. I’d been doing it (again) for several months before I noticed it. So, I closed my eyes and took a big deep breath and exhaled very slowly just as instructed in my yoga video series, available on prime for a limited time. Suddenly I remembered that I already know how to do this.
My mother had a new-mo-nectomy in July of 1996. Immediately after the surgery she began respiratory rehabilitation, to learn to breathe more efficiently. I went with her to the first several sessions, which were held at the hospital in a small group class. Mom called it lung school. There were other cancer patients and people with various forms of COPD. The respiratory therapists taught us about pursed-lip breathing: Inhale as deeply as you can, then purse your lips like you’re whistling, as you release the breath very slowly. This technique helps you calm down when you’re stressed or anxious, and provides the most breath for the buck, which is super helpful, when you’re down to your last lung.
I listened intently to the free concert in the park, featuring various artists native to Eastern PA. They performed all the birdsong classics and one of my very favorites that can only be produced live by Pine Tree Branches & The Gentle Wind. I opened up my eyes, feeling a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in forever. I’d be a better person if I did this kind of thing regularly. I could just sit and stare and listen. I was finally soothed- my soul calm. This is enough for me, I thought. This really is all I need, a quiet corner in a local park where I can come whenever I need to center myself. Just as I set about to mentally claim it as my own secret spot, in my periphery appears a little someone to remind me it’s not.
The following is a factual description of true events. I use ‘he/him’ simply for the sake of brevity, as I was unable to determine the creature’s preferred pronoun.
A snake- a small snake. But a snake nonetheless… curving up out the leaves and dirt, barely my arm’s length away. Shockingly, I was so relaxed that he didn’t startle me. Not even a little.
Must’ve been all that special breathing.
We both just halted in place, holding each other’s gaze.
Not one to challenge wildlife to a stare-off, I carefully moved only my eyeballs… slowly to the left, then slowly to the right.
‘Oh shit,’ I said, recognizing what was obviously his dwelling- a gathering of bed-like fluff of forest floor topped off with golden pine needles. ‘I’m sitting in your house aren’t I? I’m sorry, I’ll be outta here in like, 5 minutes.’
At that, he reversed in smooth and silent S-turns right back from where he appeared. Wow. That’s one hell of a gracious garter snake. I again closed my eyes, but how could I have the audacity to meditate as his very home is crushed beneath my ass? So convinced that this little creature and I completely understood one another.
He just wants to be left alone.
So I got up, apologized again and promised to find another spot for my next off-grid excursion, and headed back to the car. My reawakened phone scolding me with notifications, texts and voicemails. One from my sister, another from my neighbor. She’s worried about me because my partner texted her when he couldn’t reach me. “Just let me know you’re ok!”
Are you seriously kidding me? … but then my annoyance evaporated into something else. I don’t know, gratitude maybe?
Must’ve been all that oxygen.
I’m pretty lucky to have these people in my life who won’t leave me alone. They kinda make me feel important. Next time maybe I’ll get in touch with them to tell them I’ll be out of touch with them for a little while.
