As I write this it’s raining cats and dogs
and the sound of heavy raindrops hitting the roof of my car sounds a little too much like actual cats and dogs falling from the sky. Hope my roof doesn’t dent, it’s still not paid off.
It’s dark out, and ripped cautionary tape hangs lazily around a jungle gym of an old playground i’m parked in front of. A playground my brother, a childhood friend, and I would spend hours playing tag at as kids. It looks a lot smaller than before. Now I could easily scale the vertical pole that I used to be terrified of sliding down when I was seven. The only thing stopping me from hopping out in the rain and dominating this playground, is the rain. I’m pretty damn cozy in my car while writing this so yeah.
I remember panting from sprinting the entire perimeter of this place, alongside hordes of other sweaty and out-of-breath kids screaming our heads off with excitement. My sides would hurt from laughter that ensued after successfully dodging slower kids at the playground, being tickled by their frustration. Eventually after what seemed like a few minutes, with gps precision us kids would scope out our babysitter amongst the chaos, and our energetic bodies would dash over to refuel. Soft wonder bread with a slice of kraft cheese, a thin sliver of deli meat, and a dab of mustard was tasty enough to live on in memory. The first bite of this simple delicious sandwich usually stuck to the roof of my mouth if I took too big of a bite.
A few things made this park a rare one
- First, it's a stones throw from the Oregon zoo and Rose Garden, surrounded by natural greenery.
- Second, it has these really dope phone communicator thingys. Remember those scenes in a show or movie where some kids would miraculously communicate by connecting two empty cans together by a string? Ok imagine something like that, but the cans stood on top a 3 foot tall blue (or maybe yellow)pole, had a circular microphone on top where you could speak or listen through, and sat at opposite ends of the massive structure. Like magic, a comrade would stand at one end of the playground and yell some jibberish inside this microphone thing. An earful of echoie voices would shoot vibrations into one side of my body and put me on high alert of any taggers in sight. It was magical.
- Third, this playground was mega. As a kid, it felt like it’s own small city but with kids as cars. We go round and round, some merge onto bridges, slide down off ramps, zoom past slower drivers, run out of gas. There’s even an unfortunate accident resulting in a scraped knee and needing to be towed away by a grown up. It’s funny, life can be meta sometimes.
Those days seemed to last forever.
Because nothing else existed outside of those moments I was lost in them, effortlessly present. Nowadays for me (and I bet for others reading this too), most things enjoyed are often at the mercy of a schedule with enjoyable moments passing away as quickly as they come. Seems like the world spins faster as our time on earth gets longer. No wonder why being mindful and present speaks louder to us during mature times in our lives. We get the value.
Washington park amphitheater. Portland, OR.
Lately, I felt empowered to approach life like I do my tea. What playgrounds did for me as a child then, is what sitting with tea (and sometimes writing about it) does for me today. It commands my earnest attention.
In many ways it's a teacher for me. Encouraging me to slow down, to be in the here and now. To really tap into that vein of life where all feels so together.
The result of tapping into this vein of life reminds of this Japanese term.
Yūgen: an awareness of the universe that triggers emotional responses that are too mysterious and deep for words.
Sometimes its a solemn trek to get to a state of Yūgen, and it’s always worth it.
Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished. - Lao Tzu
Taking my time to sip delicious hot tea is more wholesome than gulping it down, and it doesn’t burn the hell out my mouth which is a plus.
With a sip, I can savor the delicate notes and unravel subtle energies. Slowing down enough to tune into life, I learn to appreciate the unfolding.
This is only one of the numerous ways to practice presence, and this is just one that seems to be working for me now.
Feel free to try it.