The (He)Art of Relaxation
This week as we’ve been traveling for my husband’s work, I’m newly noting with refreshed certainty the heavy gravity of home. I feel the pull, the exhaustion that begs to awake renewed, not in the white linen, king-bed blackout of our enviable hotel room, but in the modest, concave full-sized that our marriage inherited from Danny’s prior apartment, the light escaping the curtainfolds to litter our mock-hardwood floors, while mechanical friction squeals and screams from the highway next door. Well, maybe not that last part. But we’ve all heard the adage: “there’s no place like home.” Perhaps, I’m pondering poolside, because there's no place besides home that one can fully experience being exactly and relaxedly oneself.
Take the safety and security of it all, for starters. At home, one knows well the creaks of the walls and what time the mailman stops by, and we luxuriously let our guard down. Away, it’s constant vigilance, ever uncertain of our surroundings. How do we know we can trust those we’ve given our trust to? This, living in the back of our minds, everyday…
Add to that: the new surroundings, and the social energy it takes to practice asking for help and admitting you don’t know everything. You’re a new person in a new place, and it’s going to show. Everyone’s going to know that you’re lost! That you don’t know the language, or the cultural customs! You have to bravely admit defeat. Oh heavens, the stress of humility.
Furthermore, the days are rooted in itinerary (as much as we might reject this practice for a relaxing getaway, there’s no escaping it). The hotel restaurants have set hours, as does check-in and out. The sunset certainly does. And if we want to go outside of our lodging, we have to actively search out how long the drive is and plan all things accordingly (whereas at home we just know, and already have means of transportation). Research really is a key, majorly underestimated part of travel. But is research on a time constraint really relaxing? Maybe for some of my scholars here. Personally, not my thing.
Lastly, the financial pressure of getting away. Time on vacation is a finite resource, every second costly and limited. So I always feel the need to squeeze as much meaning into a trip as possible, which inevitably causes tension. I feel guilty when I’m not out wandering, or taking in the sun, or experiencing everything about a new place in one day so that I can feel like I’ve known it a lifetime. We paid to be here! So we’d better make it special and meaningful and perfectly worthwhile. A storybook trip we’ll enjoy in our memories forever.
Well the truth is, our minds cling to these journeys no matter what. We quickly re-write the bad and savor the good. Especially if we have photos to look back on! This is what I attempt to remind myself when I get taken up in the scarcity mindset of fun (although…worse things have happened than a girl just trying to get the most out of her vacation).
Now, it’s possible that I just haven’t traveled “in style” enough to have experienced full relaxation away from home - there is a learning curve to everything. And I do also believe in the power and joy of confusion; some of my favorite stories, that never fail to cause repeated laughter when recounted, have come from embracing erroneous travel experiences. So my point is by no means to stay home - a core belief of mine is actually the opposite: go, satiate, experience. But when you’re living it up in places renowned for R&R and wondering why you’re envying your little old life a bit, just remember that when it comes to relaxing, the answer might be a lot closer to home than you thought.
