Greetings From My Oxygen Tent + Little Joys

I recently used oxygen as a metaphor for mental health and I got a lovely infusion from my solo day at home.

But then the wind got knocked out of my sails and it was time for an extra heavy dose.

On Monday Lisa posted about finding joy in everyday life – spoiler alert: it can be hard – and Birchie responded in the comments about how her recent solo road-trip has been like living in an oxygen tent.

Friends, I am in an oxygen tent. [Thank you, Birchie. You are brilliant. If introducing us all to Curried Chickpea Salad wasn’t enough of a legacy, you’ve now handed me additional oxygen imagery on a silver platter.]

Last September I whisked myself away to spend five nights at my parents’ home. They live in the middle of nowhere. Quite literally. Their little house is at the end of an impossibly long driveway, deep in the woods next to a fairly isolated portion of a giant lake.

Wouldn’t Thoreau be impressed?

I am visiting them this week. It is only the second time since having kids I have travelled solo. Walking out the door with just my suitcase and laptop bag and basically zero advance planning felt incredible. The handful of times John and I have left the kids to travel together, I live their entire week in advance – contacting schools, prepping food, leaving lists for my parents, psyching the kids up to have both parents away, and then getting myself packed and ready. It is exhausting (and also 100% worth it).

Coming here requires none of those mental and physical gymnastics. It is like being hooked up to an industrial-sized oxygen tank.

Ordinarily I would have used the four-hour drive to listen to something borderline productive; reflective worship music to strengthen my faith, a time-management podcast – things of that ilk.

This time, I listened to three – count them, THREE – different podcasts that offer recaps on The Great British Baking Show episodes. I cannot thank NGS enough for inspiring me to do this, and the specific podcast she recommended (The Bake Down) was my favourite of them all.

I also want to give a shout-out to another blogger; Ally, last week you mentioned that doing nothing gives you oxygen. I replied that sounded lovely and also that it sounded borderline impossible.

My one-hour-in-the-hammock-without-doing-anything experiment was a success and was directly inspired by your comment. I’m determined to repeat it.

There’s no sense crying over lost time, but I realize one thing I’ve missed in this Year of Shmita is doing nothing. It is a hard state to achieve in modern society. Doing “nothing” often looks like trying to pay attention to our breathing (which feels like very hard mental work, to be honest) or engaging in gentle exercise or puttering around the house.

But I rarely – if ever – do nothing. I might watch a show or read a book or do something frivolous and leisurely. But my brain and/or my body is almost always moving.

All that to say, I’ve spent at least a few minutes each day just doing…nothing. No book, no phone, no agenda, no expectations from the time I’m frittering away investing in my well-being.

I don’t expect to go home and feel rested. I might, but I probably won’t. The comments on Friday’s post were so encouraging. I can enjoy this time away and not place any expectation on a long-term outcome. Maybe I’ll have a lightening-bolt moment and my perspective on this season of life feeling exhausting will shift momentously. That’s highly unlikely.

A few days from now I’ll be home picking up dirty socks and thinking about what to cook for dinner (though I have used this time in the oxygen tent to do some brainstorming about how to streamline food prep this summer). I know I will feel guilty about not coming back as Mary Poppins in the flesh. I know I will get discouraged that five nights in the oxygen tent didn’t cure all my woes and mental hangups.

But, today is great. Today is highly oxygenated and today is the only one I need to think or worry about right now. And today (and the last two days) included a lot of little joyful moments.

LITTLE JOYS

I think big, existential joy can be difficult to identify. But little moments of joy – that often come from a jolt of attention – are more accessible. Here are some of mine from this week.

• Spotting four deer on the driveway. They stopped and stared at me like, well, deer in headlights.
• The bright red shed on a neighbouring property. It is perhaps the most cheerful shed I’ve ever seen.
• The view from my bedroom window.

• Sunshine over a calm lake.
• Watching an episode of the most recent season of All Creatures Great and Small each evening. Lovely. I now have an uncontrollable urge to re-read all the books this summer.
• The fact that my mother peels and thinly slices an apple every evening and portions them out into two tiny dishes for she and my father to eat while they watch a show together. #LifeGoals. At home I leave the peels on and tend to cut giant slices (nutrients! efficiency!). But eating a peeled, wafer-thin slice of apple as part of their adorable evening ritual has been a lovely little joy.
• Spotting a new – very happy looking – painting on the wall. (My mom likes to stay busy and after retirement took up painting and now their walls are COVERED in her art which is joyful.)

• The Great British Baking Show. I am a broken record which will keep playing the same tune as long as it brings joy to my heart.
• Spotting a regal-looking heron at the water’s edge. I ran to get my phone to snap a picture and it took wing and flew. It seemed like a good reminder that, sometimes, it’s best to just enjoy the moment.
• Eating many of my beloved foods from childhood.

Any little (or big) joys in your life lately?

Header photo by Sincerely Media on Unsplash