day 17 - your favorite memory, in great detail
Hm. I don't often let myself relax. My favorite memories are ones in which I feel genuinely, completely calm and composed. Unsurprisingly, in these memories, I'm alone. Well, not in all of them. I've genuinely been trying to think of happy memories from relationships and drawing blanks, which I think is really sad...and about which I'm not doing much, considering that my M.O. these days is "RUN!" I suppose if you ask me this question again in a year or so, my favorite memory will have changed.
I remember hanging out on the screened-in porch of my old house from sophomore year. That house was AWESOME, and we did not use it to its full potential. It was late summer, late afternoon or early evening. I was chillin', like I do, reading a book, and looked up at the sound of a car passing by. On the outside of the screen, about a foot from my face, a praying mantis perched, staring at me. I sometimes have distinctly animal-like reactions to surprise and confusion, and I tilted my head at the thing, starting to smile. It tilted its triangular head in the same direction. I straightened out my neck, and it continued to sort of peer at me through the screen, slowly tilting its head, those big, black eyes focused intently on (what seemed to be) me. Occasionally it would move its little legs, but most of the time they were poised in (what else?) prayer position.
Have you ever really watched a praying mantis move? They're so brilliantly, purposefully slow; every movement appears deliberate. This was probably in 2003, and I've never been able to forget a tiny little bonding moment I had with a praying mantis. It continued to show up every few days for the remainder of the summer, and watching it always made me feel cool, calm, and as though I was nuts for being stressed most of the time.
Likewise, while camping in 2009, I woke up around dawn before we were to head to King's Island later that morning. I couldn't sleep anymore, so I got up and sat on the edge of the picnic table, smoking clove cigarettes (I had been quit from the nicotine for about 4 months but had reverted to cloves in times of stress) and watching the sunrise over the lake. It was shortly before I'd be moving to Virginia, and my brain was functioning on a million different levels. As I sat at the table, brooding and wishing I had some coffee, a Great Blue Heron swooped out of the sky and skimmed the water, eventually standing in the shallows near the little cove where we were camped. No one else in the campground was awake, and the air was still damp and chilly. I didn't move for about ten minutes, watching this bird dive for fish in the shallow water. It was the only time during that summer I felt truly at ease. It was like no one else existed. Just me and this bird.
Ask me again later, I'll probably give different answers. But for now, I long for calm, and as cliched as it is, for peace. I'm hoping the beach will allow for some more experiences like these.
I remember hanging out on the screened-in porch of my old house from sophomore year. That house was AWESOME, and we did not use it to its full potential. It was late summer, late afternoon or early evening. I was chillin', like I do, reading a book, and looked up at the sound of a car passing by. On the outside of the screen, about a foot from my face, a praying mantis perched, staring at me. I sometimes have distinctly animal-like reactions to surprise and confusion, and I tilted my head at the thing, starting to smile. It tilted its triangular head in the same direction. I straightened out my neck, and it continued to sort of peer at me through the screen, slowly tilting its head, those big, black eyes focused intently on (what seemed to be) me. Occasionally it would move its little legs, but most of the time they were poised in (what else?) prayer position.
Have you ever really watched a praying mantis move? They're so brilliantly, purposefully slow; every movement appears deliberate. This was probably in 2003, and I've never been able to forget a tiny little bonding moment I had with a praying mantis. It continued to show up every few days for the remainder of the summer, and watching it always made me feel cool, calm, and as though I was nuts for being stressed most of the time.
Likewise, while camping in 2009, I woke up around dawn before we were to head to King's Island later that morning. I couldn't sleep anymore, so I got up and sat on the edge of the picnic table, smoking clove cigarettes (I had been quit from the nicotine for about 4 months but had reverted to cloves in times of stress) and watching the sunrise over the lake. It was shortly before I'd be moving to Virginia, and my brain was functioning on a million different levels. As I sat at the table, brooding and wishing I had some coffee, a Great Blue Heron swooped out of the sky and skimmed the water, eventually standing in the shallows near the little cove where we were camped. No one else in the campground was awake, and the air was still damp and chilly. I didn't move for about ten minutes, watching this bird dive for fish in the shallow water. It was the only time during that summer I felt truly at ease. It was like no one else existed. Just me and this bird.
Ask me again later, I'll probably give different answers. But for now, I long for calm, and as cliched as it is, for peace. I'm hoping the beach will allow for some more experiences like these.