I was sitting on a tall, sandy brick wall along the beach, barefoot, staring out onto Cox Hollow Lake. The smell of my baking skin invaded my nostrils with every gentle breeze that visited. I lightly swung my feet out of pure contentment as I stared out into the shimmering body of water before me. I saw something move to my left; I used my right hand as a visor to block the sun. When I had a good visual, I was blessed with the sight of a Crow fighting off an Eagle. I watched, mouth wide open, in amazement.
Healing from my surgery gave me a lot of down time. I had, what seemed like, unlimited time to reflect. This surgery was something I had wanted for a long time. I stayed at a job that made me deeply unhappy so I could get the surgery done; and now its done and its time to move on.
So what's next?
Well, to answer that, I had to ask myself, "what was the plan before?"
When I moved back to Madison, I had a Tarot Reading done at Budding Butterfly in Sun Prairie, WI. I expressed how badly I wanted to purchase a bus and go travel. The reading told me there was something else I needed to do before that path could fully open for me. I knew that was the surgery.
So now that the surgery is done, and I've saved up money, I think its time to really pursue the bus dream, which is really more of a travel dream.
While I was sitting at the beach at Governor Dodge State Park I imagined my car was a camper. The parking lot wasn't too far from the beach. I visualized myself walking back to my camper and starting to cook dinner for the night. I didn't like (well, I had a feeling of dis-ease about) that my camper would be so close to the beach, or that it was in the park at all. The sentence I heard in my head was, "It's too easy". I find that interesting; Should life be...difficult?
Or is that what my past experiences have conditioned me to believe?
To be fair, I do and in this situation, did enjoy driving away from the park. It would have been nice, however, to not have to dive an hour to return home. I would have loved to drive to the campsite where my (imaginary) camper was parked.
I really, really enjoy the quiet, tranquil space of nature. I love the way silence sounds in nature; its quiet, but there is resonance and music in the movement of plants, animals, and wind. There are no people around to pollute the air with their constant jabber of dissatisfaction that stems from their inability to step out of vicious cycles and bad habits. There is nobody around to drag me through the past or project me into the future with questions of clarification or new, brilliant ideas. There's no need to fuss with my appearance and there is nobody around to influence me to do so. It is quiet, no, silent inside of me.
Around me is the squawking of birds defending their nests, the gentle passing of water against rocks, and the wind rustling through tree canopies.
On this particular trip, I was blessed to sit in front of a waterfall. I sat with my eyes closed, focused only on the rushing sound. It was tremendously powerful, even for a small waterfall. The volume was uncomfortable at first, and a surge of anxiety built up in my legs. But I forced myself to be there with it. I didn't allow any thoughts to come in. And if they did, I simply let them pass.
As I sat in silence, I smiled with each misty breeze that cooled my sunburnt skin. After only a few seconds, I found myself in a very peaceful state. I later discovered that moving water produces negative ions that can be absorbed into our system by proximity. This absorption increases serotonin levels and allows more oxygen to be absorbed in the blood, making it easier for the body to filter out toxins. It's no wonder I was so calm!
Speaking of anxiety; I was slightly afraid to go to the park to begin with. It was an hour away. Driving far from Madison use to give me anxiety (which I find strange because I have not lived here my whole life, I've kind of always been a rolling stone). I pulled into the parking lot at Kwik Trip in Dodgeville, WI. I could feel a sense of panic build up in my chest. Instead of giving into it, turning around and driving home, I took a deep breath and got out of my car. I kept taking deep breaths as I went inside, peed, and got back into my car. I felt pretty calm once I walked out of the building.
Once back in my car, I thought, 'I should figure out why my car isn't shifting properly.' I jumped onto Youtube and suddenly was slapped with a wave of anxiety again. I recall almost every thought I had, all at once: "I just want to know the answer.", "I'm so far from home.", "I'm not safe.", "It's so hot." (this one prompted me to open my car door as I was watching a tutorial on how to check my transmission fluid), "why am I doing this?", "I should just turn around and go home."
Instead of fighting the thoughts, justifying them, or trying to rationalize them, I just focused my attention on the video; I really listened to it. Yes, I was having anxiety, but I listened through it. I found the information I needed so I knew what I had to do next. I found a level spot to park my car despite the anxiety voice in my head saying "why am I doing this?", "I'm just getting in other peoples way.", "People are going to think I'm weird.", "I'll stand out.", "People will be looking at me."
Nobody was looking at me.
And nobody questioned what I was doing. I popped my hood, but couldn't find the dipstick for the transmission fluid. I found the closest dude and asked for help. At that point, my anxiety was gone; I just wanted to figure out what was going on with my car.
I was struck with anxiety voice again when I got to the park. As soon as my car stopped moving and I put it in park, the voice said, "oh my god what am I doing?", "I'm so far from home.", "I'm not safe.", "Start the car and go back home." These thoughts were accompanied by extreme feelings of paralysis. My body was almost in pain.
Perhaps it was the previous victory over the anxiety voice that gave me confidence because I just kept moving, knowing exactly why I was there. Eventually the voice went away. It would try to creep up every once in a while whispering in a shout, "What am I doing?", "What will people think?", "They'll probably think I'm weird."
But I know I.
I know me.
I know Celina.
She is a cool cat. She's does her own thing. She's chill, she loves simplicity. She loves nature.
I am her in this lifetime, we are this story. We are one.
And I'm not weird, I just am.
So really, I don't give a flying fuck if someone thinks I'm weird. Because what I do and who I am makes me happy. And when I tell myself that story, I drowned out the anxiety voice and it has no chance. It is liberating beyond imagination and it only happens in an instant.
-Celina Joan
Comments