Wellness

An Object Lesson in What Matters

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I was sitting in the break room at the winery, having just finished my lunch. It was a chilly, sunny day, and the break room has a really nice window that looks out on the terrace, the waterfall feature on the grounds, and beyond that over the valley.

I was debating how to best pull off the rest of the week, crank out a new bread recipe for my chef’s latest special, and what kind of desserts I should do for the seasonal menu change. I was grateful for the distraction. The toxicity of social media around the Israel-Hamas War was still trickling through despite me pulling back. When that many lives and that much culture is on the line and the generational trauma of two entire peoples is simultaneously triggered, there’s too much at stake for it to be managed through TikTok videos, memes, and idiotic flame wars- but here we are.

It made my heart hurt, and my mental health required me backing off, so I’d resolved to do what I’d always done when feeling pained and powerless- feed people, and put good things into the world that weren’t there before.

Then my phone rang. It was my wife, nearly in tears. Life was about to provide an object lesson in Pain, Powerlessness, what we do in the face of it, and the things that mean more than posting “the right things” on social media.

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Connecting By Disconnecting

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The world feels like it’s exploding.

If you are like me, you are constantly fighting with yourself between staying informed even at the risk of marinating your brain in Sensationalist Hate Broth of social media, and burying yourself in tiny comforts and ignorance until it goes away.

I have my own opinions of Israel vs. Hamas, and since October 10th I have felt the need to share them as loud as possible. Maybe, just maybe, at the cost of my peace of mind and sanity I could get people to stop being pissy and angry and screaming past each other so that maybe- MAYBE- we could all make sure the violence, madness, and death stops.

Wasn’t gonna happen. There’s room for every voice and opinion on the internet, but social media in particular isn’t built for connection or communication. It’s built for engagement- for keeping us doomscrolling and “interacting” and staring at ads and being on the platform for as long as possible.

Things that make sense don’t help that. Patience, compassion, complexity, and nuance don’t jive with that goal. Anger, rage, hate, pain, and self-righteousness do. After marinating in that hellbroth for way too long on a false hope, I made the call to back off for my own sake. I post for this blog, I answer messages, and (every now and then) I watch funny videos. That’s it.

There’s ways to bring happiness and reason to the world, but screaming on social media sure as shit isn’t one of them. By backing off, you get the brainspace and emotional bandwidth to find them on your own.

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Listening In On The Anxiety

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Yesterday, I went for a long walk through Mount Tabor Park before it would start raining. It was finally a cooler fall morning and this was to be my workout for the day, so I made a point of enjoying it. I wore my favorite tweed vest combo, my favorite shawl, grabbed my walking stick and just did my Hobbit thing.

I made sure to bring my headphones with me in case I wanted to listen to music or a podcast on the walk, but I didn’t think I would. I haven’t lately, and not for lack of quality in my favorite podcasts. (Seriously, check out Old Gods of Appalachia, especially as we get toward Halloween here in the states.)

Instead, as I mentioned in my last post, I’ve had the time and bandwidth to get more curious about my inner life- how and why my mind does what it does. Historically I’ve used podcasts deliberately to blot out intrusive thoughts, break the anxiety spirals and derail rumination funks that can sap my focus and energy. In other words, they put someone else’s voice in my head when I can’t bear the sound of my own anymore.

They are still excellent for that, but lately I’ve had the energy to explore the “bad neighborhood” parts of my brain and figure out what’s going on in there.

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Making Progress

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I’m sitting at the bar at Toms for one of the first really autumnal days after a bit of a heat wave, just in time for Casey to fix me a Pork Roll, Egg, and Cheese sandwich- then chase it with a stout when they start pouring at noon.

I actually ate breakfast at 7am, but then I successfully ran it off, and proceeded to walk the thirty minutes out here for my Hobbitesque “second breakfast.” Of all the ways to refuel after a run, the PREC is a solid winner.

I’m slowly getting back into my good habits- I’m back to working out daily, eating better/less/smarter, and slimming down a bit. It’s easier to make progress than it has been in a while, and it’s because I have the freedom to slow down, take stock, and learn to accept.

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Living Simply Isn’t

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My friend Victoria lives a life a lot of folks claim to dream of, myself included.

She lives in a house next to a state park, warmed by a wood-fired stove. She, her husband and toddler keep a garden and raise ducks and turkeys, the structures of which she and her husband built themselves. When she isn’t baking or cooking what her husband hunts and fishes, she and her business partner go hiking and foraging for the ingredients they use to make their botanical lotions and cosmetics as Wily Coyote Botanicals.

She is still a wife and mother, still maintains a household, and somehow has all the energy needed to maintain all these things AND co-run a business.

“Simplifying your life” takes a lot of work, learning, and relearning. Victoria has been fascinated and working at it for most of her life, but what can a tragically urban writer/baker with “#bighobbitenergy” do?

I caught up with her to ask a couple questions about the “simple life” and for most of us, it will start small- with hobbies and curiosity.

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