A (too) early morning walk with decaffeinated ruminations
That dawn was like any other dawn. No-carb dawn. The usual. For some particular reason, I had a sudden absurd desire to take a walk by the neighborhood lake at around six in the morning. If I squint my hardest to recall the reason, I believe I was hit at lightning speed by frustration and stress as soon as I woke up. Then an idea of a walk walloped. It had to do with me being inspired by a guaranteed confidence booster podcast that I had recently listened to and where, in between the polite and polished textbook tips, the motivational speaker had said our brain needs - craves? Desires? Lusts after? I can’t seem to recall the exact word – nature to alleviate stress. Anyways, the point is not to talk about the degree of recollection my brain can achieve – or not achieve. The point is how I went about alleviating my stress in nature before the morning birds had begun their competitive sopranos.
I first walked on the grass that amply surrounded the avocado-shaped lake like a green barbed wire fence. Inside the head of a carefree poet, the grass must have looked like a monarchic emerald necklace. Not that I have been inside the head of a carefree poet. Before my conscious mind caught up with her unconscious counterpart, I began to walk faster. With my haphazard steps, I am certain I looked like a master saunterer, or perhaps even a diabolical racewalker. Then I thought how about a jog. It wasn’t the right thought, not even approximately, although I have no idea what constitutes an approximately right thought. As soon as my head began to bob up and down with the jogging rhythm, the green barbed wire fence looked uglier, not unlike a long row of haphazardly sawed lettuce heads. I stopped my jog there. Nothing seemed to lessen my stressed-out mind.
But something good did emerge from nowhere. I remember the wind and how it felt (at least I can recall something). It was pleasant. It felt as though it was a living creature with invisible hands that caressed my bedraggled greasy hair without any judgment or grossed-out expression. And it was making me feel so good until it stopped – like suddenly, without any warning, leaving me to the scorching heat of the daybreak sun as a goodbye kiss. And the sun just thought of showing the brightest side of its face without any preamble. Now, I felt as though I was being incarcerated inside an oven. After a few more minutes, I could assuredly claim I was freshly baked. But I think I didn’t have much room to whine. It was an early May morning in Bangladesh after all.
What I did next was I sat on the grass. It was very clearly recently mowed. I must be in dire need of spectacles, or perhaps I needed to rediscover the power of observation that I so easily wielded when I was a child. The grass blades were grinning upwards at me, their sharp green teeth glinting in the sun rays - and I was wearing cotton sweatpants. I could still feel the pointy edges of the grass blades poking my backside as I stood up with the speed of DC’s Flash.
Needless to say, I became the owner of even more frustration than I had been prior to my walk in nature. Sure, nature reduces stress, but somebody should add “not always!”
By Raisa Anan Mustakin