Where I collect my breath
I used to be a much better blogger. Not only did I actually post somewhat regularly, but I thought about what I wanted to post & when I’d post. When I went on vacation, I’d line guest posts from a list of my favorite bloggers to keep my regular readers1 entertained.
I went on vacation in July . . . . not only did I not post about going on vacation, or line up any guest posts, but I also didn’t post when I was back. This is unlike me – but my life, well, life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans or something like that. My plans for my blog, they’ve been drowned out by life.
So, anyway, I went on vacation — fun was had by all. We went to the beach with several dozen of our Framily (friends & family mixed to the point where you kind-of forget that you’re not blood-related to some of the people you’re vacationing with). The weather was just about near perfect, the kids mostly behaved, the wine flowed. And I took just a little bit of time to find myself.
I am not a religious person. When push comes to shove, I think the world would be a far better place if we lived our lives according to the tenets of any of the large religions. But, on that same tone, I believe more harm has been done to this world in the name of religion than anything else . . . and that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I list my religion, on Facebook, as Pastafarian . . . because, well, when I go into the great beyond, I want there to be a beer volcano & a stripper factory.
But to say that I am not religious seems a bit disingenuous. On vacation, I woke before 5 most every morning2. I got on my bicycle & cycled to the beach at Assateague National Wildlife Refuge. I parked my bike and started to run away from any hint of civilization. I ran until it was the right time. I cooled myself in the ocean. I faced the sun as it broke the horizon, letting the first light of the day reach me as I
did yoga stretched & maneuvered & contorted my body. I breathed. I existed. I found peace.
That feeling — I wish there were a way to bottle it. When I’m stuck, in the middle of the day, wondering why I’m doing what I’m doing & just hoping that things will stop . . . during those times where I hope for numb, because that’s a whole lot better than whatever I’m feeling right at that moment, I wish I could reference that peace.
Religion, as it’s typically defined — it’s not for me. But an ocean breeze against my sweating body as I synchronize my breathing to match the crashing waves . . . well, that’s the very definition of “a religious experience” for me.