Some people talk about taking a vacation to recharge their batteries — or maybe going on a retreat of some sort. But I don’t know many with that option: to have one foot in a place you’d want to take a vacation from — and the other ably capable of stepping where life feels better. Maybe it’s the latter part that makes one feel refreshed, like, Oh yeah, when I’m really tired, I can move to different air. Or maybe it’s a sense of, of all the options that I know of, here’s a moment that’s good.
Everybody gets weary, at some point, and I’ve been thinking about the particular ways people try to revitalize themselves. I’m not sure most people actually do that, so much as they throw themselves into some kind of escapism. Generally that can be prefixed with junk: junk food, junk TV, etc. None of which leaves you with a real sense of energy.
In some places, I’m not sure the simple act of breathing the air is conducive to feeling energized — not in the traditional sense of what taking a deep breath should amount to (not when there’s a smog advisory). If you’re in such a place and you’re aware of what smog is, or even if you think that it’s normal air, you need a sense of get up and go as much anyone. As unfair as smog as normalcy is, stagnancy in escapism doesn’t help make that air seem any sweeter.
When it comes to fresh air, the old notion of countryside retreats for it can be a glorified kind of escapism in its own right — especially if you think of some nice area as off limits to the ‘pitfalls of urban life.’
I guess what I’m talking about is getting that sense of rejuvenation from something good–not just something that looks that way, but a real hearth. Only not literally. The only time I see those are on TV (Though those fake Amish deals look pretty nifty). Something reliably heart-warming, instead. It’s the inklings of such that can help keep you going: small acts of kindness; a smile from someone who seems to really see you; the feeling that you’re listening to a musician who wrote a song just to help keep you going.
You know, things that make you forget how airless the air can feel.