The Healing Power of Trees...

Today was supposed to be a day where I continued my war on dust and disorder. It's taken quite a bit longer than I would like to get every room in the condo cleaned and pressed, and thus far I haven't seen the light at the end of the tunnel. My thyroid keeps me in a lethargic state for the most part, so I jump on the intermittent periods of energy I do get to knock out some house work. For those who spend a bit of time in your own kitchens, you know the constant battle of the soiled dish. I get things cleaned up and next thing I know they're messy again. It drives me crazy until I get it to the state I want it in again. By the time I'm done, my energy is sapped and the tasks I promised myself I would do that particular day are shoved to the back burner because I'm pooped. There are two rooms I've been wanting to tackle for days (and days) now, but I keep having to pass them over. All I have to say is...argh...

Well, today is Sunday. It was supposed to be spent tackling one of the rooms I keep having to pass over. I was sitting here at the computer checking my e-mail. Glenn was in the living room (where he had been for a few hours at that point) glued to football. Any motivation I thought I was going to muster to get my scheduled job done wasn't...mustering. Heading out for a newspaper run was also on my list, and that's when an alternate day plan came to me. I hadn't gone for one of my drives around the island in awhile, so that's what I decided to do. There are a number of smaller neighborhood streets more central to the island that I hadn't investigated yet. Yeah, that sounded good.

After grabbing a paper and hitting the drive-thru at Mickey-D's for a mocha frappe (my beverage of choice for my drives), I headed to a park I had remembered from previous drives. Had never stopped there before, so the time was ripe. I had made note of it every time I had passed it (which was a bunch by this time) because of the trees. I've always dug trees, and the trees in Savannah are pretty special. Covered with lots of Spanish Moss (which is actually not moss...*see blog entry dated: 5/4/10), and gnarled in a very enchantingly majestic...majestically enchanting...way. (I'm sure you catch my drift...) So I headed around the periphery of the island until I reached my destination.

Whenever I had passed it, I took notice that there were never many (if any) people hanging out. No children climbing on the various jungle gyms or swinging on the swing sets. No picnics being consumed. No teenagers sitting around on picnic tables talking about things they wouldn't even inscribe in their diaries. When I pulled into the dirt lot, there was a group of about a dozen or so people actually consuming food under the roof over the one covered picnic area. Some smaller humans were crawling around on the slides and such. I purposefully pulled to the opposite end of the lot, and turned off the engine. I swapped my sunglasses for my regular ones and looked out the windshield. What a beautiful spot. Huge trees dotted the park, their branches creating an abstract woven canopy overhead that let in enough light to keep things from feeling oppressive. There were quite a few of them, but they were spaced nicely so I could see from one side of the park to the other. However, all around the edge was a jungle of more trees, vines, ferns, and other flora that I couldn't identify. (Note to self: make that trip to the used book store to use some of that trade-in credit to get a book on flora and fauna indigenous to Savannah.) I grab the camera and keys and lock up shop. Time to commune with some nature.



I stepped up to the edging that separated the parking area from the rest of the park. I'm met by an errant breeze that carried the barely audible sound of rustling leaves with it. You know, I don't know what to call the energy of the outdoors here in Savannah, but there is a sense of peace I get. I started snapping pictures of the nearest trees, and slowly made my way around the edge of the park. Don't know how to articulate the feeling of calm that was descending, but it was incredibly noticeable to me. So much so, that it made me pause to consider that.

I've been living with a lot of stress for a long time now. In some ways I've gotten used to it, as sad as that sounds. It has heightened quite a bit in the last number of months, mainly because it's about to be alleviated. That sounds silly, huh? The primary source of my stress is going to be remedied soon, so that makes me even more stressed? Go figure...maybe it's because of the anticipation factor. I dunno.

Aside from the usual stress points, I'm still processing a lot in regards to my mom. It hasn't been a month since she passed, and I still don't...I still haven't...I'm still processing...

That comes off like such a throwaway..."I'm still processing". It's the truth though. Don't know how I feel because I can't. Every time I feel like I'm going to have the emotional release that's probably coming, I stuff it back down. I've let so much go...so much old stuff, but in some ways I feel like I've gone back in time. I'm not allowing myself to express how I feel. To just plain feel how I feel. It wasn't something that ever mattered before. The way I feel. It feels that I've kind of regressed into that place I was in before. I know that things will happen in their own good time. It will take however long it takes for me to 'process' things. A major factor in it is that I wasn't ready for this. Who ever is, right? Since I got the news, my mind has felt like I've been on a speeding merry-go-round. My brain is swirling with...everything. I don't know how long it will take for the merry-go-round to stop, and for my brain to spin into focus. I guess, how ever long it takes.



I needed that park today. I needed that peace. That calm. The trees were there. Beautiful and green. The spirit healing whispers of their leaves and branches drifting lazily on the breath of the day. It was warm, but not unbearably. We had some rain yesterday, so the brown pine needles and leaves covering the ground were spongy under my feet. Every now and again I would hear the rustling of a forest critter moving around. As I continued around the park's edge, I came across the occasional mesh seated park bench. Looking across to the other side I could see picnic tables and posted grills positioned here and there. None of the aforementioned appeared to be maintained regularly. Not to say that things were in great disrepair. It just didn't seem that many people came there. For me, it just added to the mood of the place. It also meant that this newly discovered mental refuge wasn't frequented by a lot of people. That's okay. Obviously, not many people knew of the magic of this place.



I'm going to plug in here that I did have a slight hiccup to my time at the park. I got off a couple of shots and the camera started to beep at me...the memory card was full. Had meant to purge what was on there before I got started, but...ended up going home. My excursion felt a tad anticlimactic, so I changed my shoes, spritzed on some OFF (the mosquitoes here really suck...no pun intended...okay, maybe a little), and headed back. My return trip is pretty much where this entry starts. Moving right along...

In a way, time seemed to stand still while I was quietly soaking in the serenity. For the first time in...I can't say, my mind was open. Free. Quiet. By the time I left that park, I felt more centered than I have in quite awhile. In a way, I think I received some subconscious answers to questions I didn't consciously ask, and in ways I can't explain. Was it subliminal messages in the whisperings of the trees? The rhythms of Mother Earth transmitted up through roots and out through leaf and branch? Or was it just information that's been floating around in the recesses of my mind that found it's way out of the dark?

Before I get too deep...or seriously metaphysical...I'm going to end by saying that I did really need that visit to the park today. Whatever my mental transition was and whatever it was that influenced the change, I feel so much better.