This weekend I finished several weeks of durance vile hospital wards, supervising residents and students, teaching, and taking care of clinic work. This is a hard stretch of service, with long hours and little time off; many things (exercise, tidying, socializing, reading) get left by the wayside. However, it is this time that allows me lighter hours when I am only working in the office.
Though I still had work to do, I woke up my first free day feeling the need to Do.All.The.Things. Or at least work on my goals.
With the chill in the November air, I was ready to spend my evenings knitting a baby blanket while working on my photo book for 2018 and reading The Scarlet Letter (maybe not so much on the last thing), all the while plotting out plane trips to the WCI meeting in Las Vegas and figuring out how to earn credit card bonuses to pay for flights. This isn’t even counting all the neglected chores around the house to attack.
First, though, I was going to”relax,” and enjoy my time off.
So there I was, lying on the sofa, manically looking through blog posts as all my plans whirled in my brain.
I came across Table for One’s “How To Rest,” and The Simple Dollar’s piece on handling Winter Blues. I didn’t even finish the second post before I closed the computer, laced up my shoes, and went out the door for a long walk.
I had an awesome walk. No headphones, no company, just me and my thoughts, walking until I wanted to come home.
I looked around as I walked my usual route, seeing things in daylight that I often miss in my twilight post-dinner strolls: Halloween decorations not yet put away or composted; a kitty statue in a large planter, surrounded by a ginormous creepy squash (that thing had to be 4 feet long!). I said hello to several people gardening or walking their dogs. A friendly golden retriever finagled some head rubs before we went our separate ways.
Secure in the knowledge I could call for a pick up if I went too far and got worn out (a nice metaphor for the concept of privilege), I left my usual neighborhood, and walked down a street I seldom go.
I looked at a house that tempted me mightily when I was house shopping over a decade ago. I was single, and the house was too big and needed repairs; I would have been house poor for years (house poor is a term I heard thrown around a lot before the Great Recession, but which doesn’t show up so much these days). I was better off without it, but oh! the big porch and gorgeous sliding pocket doors in the grand sitting room.
I turned the corner and walked down a street with large and expensive houses, which never were nor will ever be in my budget. I turned the corner again, and walked down a street I have never traversed, despite living in the neighborhood for 10 years. It was quite pleasant, but as I saw the backs of houses looming over the street, I also had the pleasurable opportunity of feeling quite content to be living on my own street, and not this one.
I started the morning feeling overwhelmed and hurried to do it all.
I finished my walk invigorated, having enjoyed some crisp air, some nature, some superficial human socializing, and feeling, as Dr. Pangloss says in Candide, that I am living in the best of all possible worlds. (Of course, as I recall, Dr. Pangloss was supremely silly and impractical. Maybe I should switch out The Scarlet Letter for a reread of Candide?).
After my long walk, I found myself invigorated. I did some writing, and then finished off my leftover work. With time left over for my fun in the afternoon.
There were so many lessons to relearn today. I think the big one, though, is that a good walk can give you so much: energy, mental clarity, a little adventure, socializing. I should work on doing this more often.
Do you have lessons who have to learn and relearn?