Nature
the REST of the week #102
It’s the rest of the week. Is there anything that helps you rest—without trying?
I used to begin MFR treatments by inviting my patients to just “relax”, but I’ve decided that this is not a helpful word. It sounds like an instruction to do something that feels difficult—or even impossible.
More often than not, I hear something along the line of “I’m trying to relax”, or “Yes, I know—I need to relax”.
Ironically, relaxing—resting—seems to have become one more thing we need to strive to do.
So, lately I have been asking my patients to notice their tension and not worry about it. As the treatment progresses, this makes it easier for the body drops its guard and for relaxation to happen naturally—without trying.
Is there a practice or place that allows you to rest without even thinking about it—without trying? Something restorative that settles you when you forget where the pause button is?
In terms of slowing down and regrouping, I knew I needed a little extra help this rest of the week. Ricardo is on a work trip and relaxing at home didn’t sound, well, relaxing, so this afternoon I drove the hour or so to Crowders Mountain State Park—because there’s nothing quite like immersing myself in creation to assure me that there is a Creator.
A natural path to rest.
I got more than I’d hoped for. In the space of two hours, I experienced a microcosm of life.
The hike began under the lavish green of trees redressed for summer, in the cool shade of a canopy of mixed hardwoods. As the trail turned upward onto the monadnock (isolated hill of bedrock—my new word for the day), the climb became laborious, but in a satisfying, purposeful way.
Approaching the King’s Pinnacle, the incline grew sharp.
(Interesting how it always seems to get steeper just before you get to the top.)
I’d planned on taking some time to rest and take in the view—a vast empty sea from long ago now filled in with vegetation and the city of Charlotte in the distance, but it started to rain, crescendoing from a splattering sprinkle to the growling of a full blown storm—and enough flashes of lightning to hasten my return trip.
Halfway down the mountain, the thunder grew distant, the rain lessened, and the sun once again sparkled bright in a blue sky, intensifying the colors of the red clay path and the various hues of green.
By the time I reached the parking lot, everything seemed back to normal. But for the freshly washed earth with a splash glistening water diamonds strewn over grass and leaves you might not have known that a storm had blown through.
That and my soggy clothes and refreshed soul.
I hope you have a chance to spend some time in nature this rest of the week.
May your rest be sweet.
Alicia
I DO like nature, even if it is challenging for me now to move about. It is meaningful even to just sit and take in the quiet 🤫. The longer you sit, the more you see and hear, the more His peace fills your soul.