awe-hunters 

“Go for a walk” “Get outside” “Spend time in nature” 

The over-analyzing, ‘devils advocate’ part of my brain inquires, Why?” “Why do people say that?” 

Like, I get it. I GET it.

But also, why?

Is it just some wellness lingo? I have strong feelings about just repeating shit, because someone else said it. Do we just repeat what we have been told without pausing to reflect? “Do i really meant that?” “Do i even know why I am saying that?” I suppose that is the therapist in me. Question everything (and ask really good questions).

Back to the “go outside” bit. 

I realize that my mental visual when i hear, “go outside”, is not the beautiful awe-inducing scenery of my current home, but the ‘outside’ that a lot of americans experience. It is a county highway (ex Rt 17 in Paramus). That weird outer city highway zone where you go, when you need something odd, in the immediate. Think Chilis, endless furniture stores, ethnic markets, wholesale liquor marts, etc. Outside is an artificial grass, lined sidewalk of a housing development. Outside is that small patch of grass that you have behind your 5th floor walk up in Crown Heights. I could go on. 

I remember working in social services, in the Bronx or deep Brooklyn. When exploring coping skills with a client, you’re not going to say “try to get some time outside”. It just doesn’t really work. Tell someone from the projects in Newark that talking a walk will improve their mood. There is a slight disconnect. 

Pause on that. Access to nature is a privelage. 

Anyway.

As a therapist, in response to why do we go outside, i would probably say… it resets your nervous system, calibrates your neurotransmitters…. there is scientific evidence to support that dirt makes you happy. The logical, reasonable, smart part says that. blah blah blah. I mean it is all true, but I want more. I want to KNOW why. I want to know why, through my eyes and through my personal experience. I want to feeeeel the ‘Why’.

Today, in the midst of blowing a pile of leaves, it came to me. It came back to me. The smallest inkling/glimmer/ ember of joy. It was deep down and very small. Some port of me knew that I had to approach that lil nugget with the utmost tenderness. I might even have to trick it, to get it to surface. I put on a little fake smile (like i was holding a cracker out to a squirrel… come here little guy). Fishin for splinters.

That’s it; Fishin for splinters.  

I kept blowing. The real ‘back to basics’ satisfaction that comes from moving leaves into well dimensioned piles. “Nice one” (said to self).

And then… the ember was stoked. Jazz in my ears. Laughter at self. The stupid inner dialogue of 5 min ago, about someone, some thing, some time that doesn’t matter. Ah… the liberating ‘who cares?” coming from a deep place (not that stoner gesture of reassurance). A ‘who cares’ felt in the bones and takes to you to the place of ‘we are all just living in a simulation’. Ahhhhhhhhh. 

The sun hit the fluffy green moss, in my yard, in just the right way. A shadow of a tree in contrast to that bright green color. That soft indescribable green. I float off to thinking about Irish fairies, which brings me to reflect on memories of fish stew, brown bread, Guinness, my mom, my sisters, my love.. Floods of gratitude to merely exist.  

It’s Awe. That’s why we get outside. We are waiting for that speckle of awe. And we have to get up and get out to hope that today will be the day when that splinter of awe will pop through the surface. I see you. I am going to tweeze you out. Is the removal of a splinter not the most satisfying thing ever?

And if you have been so fortunate to be blessed with it (the awe), you want hold onto that shit for as long as you can (Like March/April in the timeline of a Cape Cod winter).

I am kinda an awe-master. Like, when in the right state (estimated 25% of the time), I can find awe in a block of velveeta. Give this girl some ‘noodles and stuff’ (some people out there will know that reference) and watch me dance. 

Awe hunters. We know each other. We can feel it. An awe hunter is a person who has seen shit, and experienced shit. They have seen the other side. They feel it. Sometimes they go back there (that space) in their mind, but they keep getting up and gettin out because they are hunting for that morsel of awe. It is the ultimate sign of resiliency. Let this not be confused with the adrenaline junkie. There is overlap in their personality organizations, and some people have a splash of both, but the awe hunter can make something out of very little. They are adaptable and imaginative. For the surfers, think waist high wind swell and pure stoke. This can translate to various sports and hobbies but works best in situations where nature is involved. To my fellow awe-hunters…. I SEEE you. 

When the awe-hunter part of me is buried (under a pile of leaves) I feel uncalibrated. It becomes hard for me function. It feels as though I am wearing the wrong prescription. The world becomes scary. 

As as moth’s find light; I find it. 

Because that is what we do. That is what humans do….

I am the kind that believes the humans will always find their light. We want to survive. 

I know that to reconnect with my awe-hunter, I need to really LISTEN.

LISTEN.

The yard looks good and I think the boss is happy. And I believe that awe can be found in the parking lot of a Cumberland Farms in Hyannis, if the mood and company are right. 

Holidays are coming. Give yourself the gift of a dopamine reset.