My Week-long Wanderlust Wrap-Up

So much of our time is preparation, so much is routine, and so much retrospect, that the path of each man’s genius contracts itself to a very few hours. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

I feel weird. Plain and simple. I  had the thought this afternoon, “I’d take driving 20 hours again over this…” I was listless and uncomfortable though I had plenty of chores and things to catch up on. It was just a thought- some we notice and some we don’t, and many aren’t even based in reality. But perhaps that’s where the weirdness comes in. For one week I didn’t have chores. Sure, I did dishes, I straightened up the condo’s couch pillows, I made sure the lights were off when we left to head into Vail Village. But I didn’t have a to-do list. I didn’t have “real-life” responsibilities. I didn’t even make my bed. Not a day goes by here at home that I don’t tuck the sheets neatly over the pillows and carefully feather the bed skirt out around the edge of the mattress. It’s like I abandoned time for a week. On the drive home, I had to check with Kristen, “It’s Friday, right?”

I blogged every day and I cannot remember what day we did what activity, when we did it, and how it happened. Is that what a vacation is supposed to feel like? Time stands still? A wrinkle in our perception where the earth stops spinning and you’re transported to some other far-off land where you forget who you are? I recall one vacation years and years ago from which I returned and could not remember the names of the therapy team I directed. Hard to believe that I relaxed that much mentally.

We arrived home at midnight this morning. When I walked into the house my immediate thought was, “Whoa.” I stepped further into my living room from the entry way and felt as if I’d floated into a castle. It felt so spacious and empty. I thought, “I have a nice living room.” Weird. Perhaps I was hallucinating from the 20-hour drive, or perhaps I was seeing another aspect of my life through fresh eyes. Automatic pilot. I had turned it off for my week-long wanderlust and my senses were recalibrated.

Funny- my normal “on” switch was flipped immediately when I got up this morning. I got dressed, I threw all my dirty laundry in the washer, I unpacked, and I went outside to mow the lawn and pull the weeds. I showered, I had a cup of coffee, and it wasn’t until 3 hours later that I realized I hadn’t stopped moving. None of this is bad. Or wrong. It’s just enlightening. Often, we cannot easily see what we’ve been wrapped up in until we step outside of it. When I ask my clients to eat a week’s worth of meals with their non-dominant hand, they see their food through different eyes. When I ask them to take a different route to work, same thing. Our patterns of behavior and thought become engrained, and until we consciously and deliberately take them in another direction, we continue to move blindly. My normal had become so normal that I think what can and needs to be my normal felt foreign.

On my way into town to buy groceries, I called my mom. Here’s how a typical conversation with my mom goes:

Mom: “Hi, Kerr! How are you?”

Me: “Hi, Ma. I’m fine. Just busy.”

Mom: “What are you up to?”

Me: “Oh nothing. Just working. Studying.”

Mom: “Anything new? Are you feeling good?”

Me: “Well, there’s always something new. I wouldn’t even know where to start. Every day something different happens.”

Mom: “You’re feeling good? You sound tired.”

Me: “Yep. I’m good. Not too tired. Just going to study today.”

Mom: “Well, try to take a break, Kor. Do something different. You work so hard all the time.”

Me: “I will, Ma. What’s going on there?” And I shift the conversation to her.

The conversation this morning was vastly different. First, and importantly, I cried. Iyanla would have been proud. I’m emotional. We know this. Except all week (until we approached the final day) I didn’t cry. Not a tear to be found. Nada. The Colorado air was dry, and so were  my eyes. I felt even-keel and neutral. The emotion- a signal. So I cried, but not right away. First I talked. Well, actually I blabbed. Non-stop. For about 20 minutes. I don’t even remember the drive into town, and I think I had to take a detour due to road closures. I spewed everything we did, where we ate, what we saw, details of our hike, the runs we went on, and then when I got to the part about feeling so incredibly relaxed, like the synapses of my brain cells had gotten together for a siesta of sorts…..whooooooosh! I cried.

I have a lot more thinking to do about my time away, and I anticipate many revelations. At this point, however,  I have one word to describe my week-long wanderlust:

Restorative

What is this life if full of care; we have no time to stand and stare~  W. H. Davis’ words, from the poem, Leisure, encapsulate my experience.