Yesterday was really just a normal Monday. We’re recovering from a short vacation, so there was laundry to deal with. The usual mess of toys and noise. Piano lessons. A bunch of phone calls to make that I’d been putting off.
I put in a significant amount of screen-time, too — playing around on Facebook, catching up on some blog-reading, answering emails. The TV was on too much. I made dinner, cleaned the kitchen, listened to my iPod, updated my calendar with upcoming obligations. Like I said, a normal Monday.
By 6:00 p.m., though, something was very wrong. I felt uneasy. Majorly uneasy. But I couldn’t have told you why. I felt worried, or as if I were dreading some impending disaster, but if you’d asked me to name it, I would have drawn a blank. I hate that feeling, that something’s wrong but I don’t know what feeling.
Somewhere around 7:50, I remembered a post over at Seedlings in Stone that has refused to fade into my memory; instead it nags at me, popping into my conscious thoughts when least expected. In it, L.L. talks about the restorative effect nature can have when we’re experiencing “directed-attention fatigue.” You really should click over to read her post for yourself, but the bottom line for me last night was that I decided to unplug, not just from technology, but from anything that required brain focus.
So I headed to our patio and claimed a chair. And just listened.
Here’s what I heard:
- The occasional hum of a car passing by on the main road.
- A dog barking in the next neighborhood.
- The buzz of cicadas in the trees that line our backyard.
- The neighbor’s air conditioning unit.
- A game of horseshoes being played just over the hill. I couldn’t see the participants, but I heard the sporadic clang of metal on metal, punctuated here and there with a manly “Yeah!”
- My cat mewing at me from the other side of the screen door.
- Birds twittering, bickering, tweeting their evening song.
Here’s what I didn’t hear:
Me breathing.
As I sat on the patio, requiring very little of my brain, I realized that I was practically holding my breath. In order to stay alive, my body was making sure that air was passing in and out of my lungs, but my breaths were incredibly shallow, almost unnoticeable. I took a deep breath. Then exhaled it completely. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Repeat again. I could almost feel myself unwind as I made a point of breathing deeply.
I don’t really think of myself as having a Type A personality. I don’t go from one project to the next, always looking for another accomplishment. I don’t consider myself driven (in fact, most of the time, I need a good kick in the pants to get moving). But still, I rarely let myself disengage. When I have some spare time, I find I’m on the computer: emailing, reading, writing. Or I’m reading a magazine, knowing I need to deplete the magazine stack before it falls over. Or I’m listening to a podcast, learning something new. Or even reading a good book, enjoyable but still asking my mind to pay attention.
There’s nothing wrong with those activities, but since life already demands plenty of brain-engagement (listening to kids, dealing with household tasks, teaching kids, paying bills, etc.), I need to be purposeful about occasionally shutting down, unplugging, disengaging. Taking time to just listen and breathe.
If I don’t, I apparently end up in the condition in which I found myself last night: uneasy, on edge, almost irritable. Barely breathing without even realizing it.
By the time I headed to bed last night, that uneasy feeling was gone. Forty-five minutes on the patio, doing nothing but listening and breathing, had indeed been therapeutic.
How often do you completely unplug and disengage? Have you found nature (even nature infused with some neighbors, cars, or air conditioning units) to be restorative?
I’d say you need to make unplugging a weekly excercise, at the very least.
I don’t do it often enough either, but my favorite place to unplug is the beach. I love listening to nothing but the waves, my dog, and the seagulls. I love staring up at a brillant blue sky and thinking… nothing.
cjh
A few years ago, I started walking or jogging first thing in the morning. It was a great way to start the day–get some exercise, enjoy a little peace & quiet, etc. Until I got the bright idea to take my iPod along. Now I get my exercise (and probably DO get a faster pace going), but it's not relaxing like it used to be. Last night my iPod died, so I couldn't take it… It was kinda nice…
What an excellent post! Every time I head into a focused time of prayer or meditation, I’m always a bit disturbed to notice the difference in my breathing. I hadn’t really noticed the same thing when in nature, but I’m sure it’s true. Thanks for the link!
Katrina- so glad you found a way to unwind and get yourself “recharged” even though you were unplugged!! I love having those times when it’s all about nothing- just being!!
Oh, how I needed this today. Yet, how hard is it to sit still knowing there’s *always* so much to do in a house with small kids!? LOL But, very wise of you nonetheless!
I love to do that but can’t remember the last time I did any unplugging. Sigh. Weird that I would have to add something like that to a to do list in order for unplugging to happen in my life.
I don’t do this near enough either.
I guess that’s why God tells us to “Be still and know that I AM.”
I understand what you mean COMPLETELY! I am not driven so much by an external need for others to see my accomplishments. I am, however, bad about always being busy for my own purposes.
Thanks for the great reminder that all the “stuff” we think we have to do ASAP will be waiting when we finish being quiet!
Rachel Langston
Great post! Though I don’t have nearly the busy, stressful life that most women have, I still feel the need for this type of unwinding. I crave peace and quiet a lot of the time. One of my favorite things to do is similar to what you describe – I like to sit out on my deck, listening to the birds sing, the wind chimes tinkling, and yes, even the air conditioner units at my neighbor’s house running! I haven’t been doing it as much, as we’ve had temps around 100 lately, but I do know what you mean.
P.S. I didn’t realize you were on Facebook
I wrote on my blog about this weekend’s trip to Lake Michigan, where we picked blueberries and played in the surprisingly big waves. If we’re not careful, though, I wonder if even our nature outings could get too
“directed”? It would be very “American” to set goals and be intentional about time in nature instead of simply wandering.
I think I’ll go for a walk in the rain as soon as I leave this comment.
(_Last Child in the Woods_ sits on a bookshelf staring me in the face. I think I’ll get it out to read before school starts.)
This is very thoughtful. I hadn’t thought of it much, but you’re right. I’m not ultra driven, but I sure am generally busy, and my idea of “downtime” is usually reading or maybe vegging with TV or music or a podcast.
We went camping a few weeks ago as a family, and I’m always surprised how different the pace of life is, and how lovely. We had to work harder to prepare and clean up our meals, but it’s still a different lifestyle which I enjoy.
I either journal or walk to unplug. It’s great.
This is wonderful. Disengage and unplugg is exactly what I need today. Just be still and just…be. Thanks.
Beautiful post.
I often have to force myself to turn everything off.
And today . . . I think I will get inspired by you and do it!
My favorite thing to do to unwind is a hot bath. I like using either bubble bath, salts, or oil to create a soothing scent, several candles lit in the bathroom, and the door closed and locked
It’s almost heavenly.
My favorite thing to do to unwind is a hot bath. I like using either bubble bath, salts, or oil to create a soothing scent, several candles lit in the bathroom, and the door closed and locked
It’s almost heavenly.
I do this rarely. Even if I take a bath, I take a book in the tub with me. I probably need to do it more! Thanks for the reminder!
Katrina, wow. I’m so impressed that you actually listened to your body’s (mind’s) sense that something was amiss. And that you took action (inaction? : )
Thanks for the link too. Glad the post spoke to your heart and soul.
So what is down time? You know ladies it doesn’t get any easier….I have teenagers and we are the house where ALL the TEENS hang out. I love it at least I know where my teens are. They are so amazing as they twitter about like the birds in the morning.
My 16 year old son wanted to know what I was doing in the kitchen this evening….Making Mischief….why do you ask? His response was almost priceless….Why? I am not going to talk to you anymore he stated with a twinkle in his eye. My response was See? Making Mischief.