July 4: Freedom on a dry and dusty dirt road

I don’t tend to celebrate holidays. I get discouraged about how they’ve become another reason to buy “stuff.” Yet another sober reminder of how consumerism and capitalism have permeated every aspect of our lives. This doesn’t leave me feeling very celebratory. So I tend to opt out.

This July 4 was no exception. I didn’t have any plans, but my version of celebrating was to catch up on watering my garden and bake an apple pie (!) from my last batch of frozen apples from last summer’s harvest.

With the popping of fireworks in the distance, I was on a phone call with my good friend, Lynne, when she mentioned she was going to step outside to look at the full moon and eclipse. Eclipse? I hadn’t heard about it, but was excited to check it out.

We ended our call and I immediately headed out on a full-moon walk. It was a perfect warm and balmy night. I stopped to ask my neighbor Susan to join me and we walked into the 200-acre park at the end of our street.

I’d read that the eclipse might appear as a faint shadow, but even through the trees, this moon was super bright, almost blinding.

We made our way to a fire road that opened up to the full sky. I gasped. It was so bright I could see everything around me in detail. It almost seemed like the afternoon, except it was dark. 

It was as if we were on some wild and surreal other-worldly planet. Then I realized, we ARE on a wild and surreal other-worldly planet! Spinning in space at 1000 miles per hour. It’s called earth. 

What is it about being out in nature under a full moon that feels like going back in time to the age of the dinosaurs? 

Susan and I stopped talking and slowed down to take in the moment in silence. We sat down right there in the middle of the dry and dusty dirt road. I lay back to bathe in the light. I felt warm air move across my face. With each inhale, my lungs pressed my back into the sharp pointy gravel under my thin jacket. 

I felt fully connected to being an organism. A body. On this planet. Everything else falling away. It didn’t matter what I had done that day, what my job is, the bills I have to pay. 

I was simply acutely aware of what it felt like to be present and alive in this glorious moment. 

I realized it had been months since I’d felt this sense of freedom and aliveness fill my body and my being. I really needed this. I’m an introvert and am content living by myself. But heading into our fifth month of shelter-in-place, there have been times I’ve been very conscious of the challenge of going through difficult moments alone. 

I’ve been conscientious about social distancing and only venture out for groceries every 3 weeks or so. A big part of it is I can’t help but wonder, as a single person living alone, who will take care of me if I get the virus? I must stay healthy.

Last week, I went through a depression for a few days (I’m pretty sure from an adrenaline crash after months of being amped up getting my website ready to launch). It was a huge barrier to overcome–to summon up effort in that low state, to reach out for emotional support.

Lying on that dirt road under the light of the full moon, breathing in the night air, I felt the tightness and constriction I’d been holding fall away. In their place, I felt an infusion of deep connection and belonging. All is well.

Seems such a contradiction to feel a sense of peace amidst on-going COVID-19 unraveling and the realities of racism surfacing.

Yet it was so clear that connecting with awe and wonder may be one of the most important ways to build emotional resilience for health and well-being, especially at this time of uncertainty and crisis. A clear path to calm our nervous systems way the heck down!

Imagine what your days and your life might look and feel like if you focused on what brings physiological and emotional well-being. What would you spend your time on? 

I found this amazing video of the Ibex, an Alpine goat, that defies gravity to scale a near-vertical dam in search of minerals that help its nervous system function. 

When was the last time you got out of your head and felt the awe and wonder from being alive?

What are some ways you can call up moments of freedom, connection, and belonging for yourself over the next few days?