—August 2019—
My therapist is across from me in her usual black tee and black pants.
I sit on a gray West Elm couch, next to a closed window that still lets in the sun’s midday heat, and the ever present honking of Midtown’s 6th avenue. A box of tissues sit next to my downward facing phone on a wooden side table. She leans forward intently as I tell her about an itch, one I knew I couldn’t scratch, and that wouldn’t go away.
“So... your plan is to move to a small town in Washington,” she recounted, masking her apprehension artfully.
“Well... that’s the ‘would-be’ plan.”
Her head tilts, and I continue, taking the cue. I’d sat on this couch now for 6 months. She’s meant to guide, and I’m here to find the gold, but our talks increasingly felt like a path of dried up circles- stragglers to the rush.
I tell her I ‘would be’ able to take the leap if I hadn’t built a fortress of responsibility (lease, relationship, job) and now, Overwhelm, lurks. I’m unable to pinpoint why he’s there, so I call up Escapism, who pulls up, windows down, with an alluring smirk telling me to “Jump in girl. I’ll make it go away.” I played the game before, but this time I had too many things to lose to run.
By the end of my session, my therapist and I settle on a Washington trip over Labor Day as a refresh, spending a few nights in the Olympic Peninsula. My extended family are WA natives, and told me about the Hoh Rainforest, a temperate rainforest, one that’s considered the quietest place in the US.
There I found canopied trees draped regally in mountains of moss which absorb the faintest rustle of a footstep. Raindrops, like delicate diamonds, glistened on ferns, while Elk grazed across the river running alongside the path. The rainforest’s magic started to soften whatever Overwhelm circled through me.
It worked for a bit, but the elusive vacation “I'm inspired and relaxed” glow seeped into the hot Manhattan pavement during the first week home. Back to keeping up. Back to my inner turbulence’s stalking shadow. Back to stumbling through my Iphone’s photos, finding pictures of the mysterious steam floating off of 100 year old trees, aching for the clear air and a clearer mind.
—March 2021—
I’m now residing in Bellingham, Washington for four months, living a dream I thought was impossible a few years ago thanks to the pandemic moving work online.
Last Friday I traversed through the Hoh Rainforest’s curved, muddied path, reflecting on how life works itself out, in sometimes painful, but always surprising ways.
This time I knew that the peace I sought would not survive the walk back, as I was already thinking about making the ferry home (we were late).
I wondered if larger ongoing events and disruption, events we are all familiar with, give me an excuse to feel overwhelmed, exacerbating my own internal chaos, or are they inviting me to be more accountable for it?
I’m grateful for the opportunity to live in close proximity to nature for a few months, but gone are the days that I thought escaping my everyday for a trip would absolve my overwhelm. It does help put life into perspective, though.
The only option of sustaining centeredness is to try to integrate it into my everyday life, as I run out of external things to provide their relief.
We understand nature is in constant state of death and rebirth. We witness its ever changing beauty; the orange and reds of a dying maple leaf in the fall, sand’s warmth sifting through our fingers, a million years of erosion dedicated to its delicate graininess.
Emerson said, “When the fruit is ripe, it falls.” He saw nature and man as a unified front. If nature is in a constant state of flux, so is man, and instead of fighting it we should lean into it.
Overwhelm shows up when change, which begs to be faced or accepted, is ignored. By honoring our own natural cycles of death and rebirth we can lend ourselves a courtesy call during the uncomfortable phase. The beauty that emerges is not always immediate or obvious, and most times it feels like trying to heal a torn muscle you use everyday, but there is magic in an imperfect, human transformation.
Let’s bring Overwhelm to tea. Let him sit, fiddling obnoxiously with the tea bag string, hunched over, hair dangling in his face. We’ll casually shoot him looks as we steep our own tea, accepting his nervous presence, listening to his grumbles, without indulging him by imploring for more. Every time we allow him to sit, without judgement, his uneasy come and go becomes familiar. This repetition of acceptance, a practiced grace, builds individual power, letting our seasons of life rise and fall, knowing disruption always leads to breakthroughs and something fresh on the other side. Maybe at some point when Overwhelm returns, I may tease him and call him Catalyst.
Other things that may help:
1) Sky Ting Yoga’s online classes emulate the airy loftiness of their Tribeca and Chinatown studios. They offer sliding scale livestreams and a 7 day free trial. Hard to pick a favorite instructor, talented bunch, but Ally Bogard ‘s classes bring me a whole new meaning of ‘church.’
2) This ambient sound newsletter for when you want to listen to autumn rain while you work, write goals or just take a moment between meetings. I found this through Morning Brew’s newsletter- SideKick (entertainment, recipes, productivity hacks…& more).
3) I love reading what’s going on in the cosmos as I believe these energies have a role in our life. Find your rising sign and check out Chani Nichols sometimes her take just hits.
4) Find some puns for Hoh Rainforest, and send em my way. It took a lot not to use a few above…
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Colleen
Incredible sojourn for the mind... looking forward to the next post!
Beautiful words capturing the ups and downs of life. Excited to read more 💜