Meanderings along the path
“I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees”
Henry David Thoreau
“I’m free at lunch or after 5 pm. Book a meeting then.” I said over the Teams meeting. I figured the team member wouldn’t like the two options and will try to solve it himself.
“OK. I’ll book a meeting at 12 pm.”
Dammit. There goes lunch…again.
I felt anger that the person would book the meeting at lunch. Since working from home, work has set guidelines that 12 pm should be meeting free. There may be exceptions and it can be spent doing focused work, taking lunch and having a break. But lately, the 12 pm meeting is becoming the norm.
The truth is I am more upset with myself than the person. Why give them an option that I don’t like and doesn’t suit me? Fuck if I know.
I manage to shuffle my meetings so that I can give the person 20 minutes of my time. In the end, I kept my 12 pm meeting free. In the current lockdown, it’s the highlight of my day. To be honest, I’m one of the worse culprits to book 12 pm meetings. The imaginary urgency of things driving me to break this sacred time.
Meetings with others to trash out a problem, work out the next steps. We vent to each other, we get stroppy at one another, we check in with everyone. All the time staring at a screen, squinting against the glare our ears plugged in oblivious to the world inside and outside.
By the time 12 pm comes around. My head is full. Full of what-if’s, what’s next’s and what to-dos. I’m drained. I’m ready to drain my head and reclaim my space. I use to get stuck behind my desk the whole day. My wife suggested I go out and walk during lunch. I reluctantly did. Now I’m addicted.
This second lockdown is not that easier than the first. Yes, the kids seem to settle into their online learning well this time around. My wife managed to hold on to her students and have shifted to online learning after a brief return to face to face teaching.
But we’re in each other’s pockets. Even though we are seeing each other every day, we’re not connecting. We talk, ask questions but not connecting. We shout, get upset, make each other laugh but not connecting. We get lost in our own little world. Work/ study, eat, sleep. Repeat over and over again. And add a smattering of anxiety over the delta variant. The days flow into each other. The dreariness of the same. Weekdays flow into weekends and you stop being able to tell the difference.
It’s the same route day after day; through the streets of suburbia to the bike path. Down the road, up the hill, past the roundabout, down a hill and onto the walking path that meanders along a creek that stinks from the run off. At lunchtime, there is a lot of people. I’ve ended up wearing a mask during the walks.
There is a grove of rainbow trees, by the creek, as soon as you get on the walking path and a few metres down. They are a beautiful group of eucalyptus trees, each with a coloured band around its trunk. Collectively, the individual coloured bands represent the rainbow.
Most people walk past these trees without a second look, if they notice it at all. Tall large trunks with sections of bark peeling off revealing smoothness underneath. Whilst others reveal the hard smoothness with intricate patterns covering the trunks. These trees each have a note on them, inviting the reader to hug, love and connect with the trees and Nature.
Touching the tree, I feel some thoughts floating away. A bit of space becomes available. Some pressure was released.
The path meanders through back streets as well. There is a section where it emerges from the street back onto the path. There are some bushes on the right. Most of the year they’re just normal bushes covered with weeds that get pulled out every few months. But around mid to late August, these bushes explode in vibrant pale yellow, bright red, purple and glaring white.
Native birds; galahs, rosellas and magpies come and visit. Someone had the brilliant idea to plant a whole bunch of native Australian plants there; kangaroo paw, bottlebrush and wattle. An explosion of Aussie colour by the side of a suburban pavement.
I pause and look at the colours. If I focus on the flowers and have my noise-cancelling headphones absorbing the ambient noise, it’s like I am in the bush. Someone walks by and breaks the illusion.
More space appears….
I play the same playlist. An eclectic mix of songs from Vivaldi’s Four Season to Franki Valli, Leonard Cohen, Nirvana, Metallica, Bria Skonberg and Nick Cave. Throw in some Air Supply and London Grammar as well. Music takes me away on a journey far away from the cares of the world. I let my mind wander; daydreams, memories and thoughts. Nothing in particular. But my mind works through things, unravels things or park it away.
Load in the brain lessens…
The path takes me through the back of the soccer fields where the trees come closer. In the sun you see a latticework of shadows and light, with a breeze leaving goosebumps as it plays amongst the leaves. Switching the headphones off, I can hear the trees sounding like waves crashing and the twittering of the birds. In one of the backyards, I see the prayer flags flapping the prayers to heaven.
The mood seems to lighten.
The path continues on but I take a left turn through another grove of trees up the hill for the return leg. This takes me back to suburbia and home. Walking past the soccer fields, I see people kick the ball around, honing their skills in lockdown. There were others exercising, trying to keep the lockdown weight off.
By the time I get home, my mood lightens, my head is spacious. Ready to be filled with stuff in the afternoon’s meetings.
