Recently, my family and I went on a quick trip a little south to see family and friends. We had such a wonderful time just visiting, playing in a local park, and enjoying some home cooking from my grandmother. It was an idyllic weekend in many ways and for many reasons, not the least of which was my own ability to “suspend,” if you will, my troubles for a bit (not a small feat for someone so organically neurotic). I allowed myself a little break from the anxieties of work and the world, and just enjoyed my cherished loved ones.

While we were there, we visited a farm and bought some fresh peaches, and picked various vegetables from my grandparents’ garden. I was reminded of the beauty of a late summer harvest and the bounty that benevolently cared for ground can produce. Every time I go back there, and stand amongst the vines and the leaves, I feel a little closer to the earth, terra firma, home. I feel, for a moment, like I am finally focused on what truly matters, the essentials: food, shelter, and above all, family and friends.

Late summer fruit and vegetable harvest

It is always a bit of a shock to me when I realize how much of brain is normally consumed with concerns that are so artificial and have very little to do with real life. I then realize that I am quietly angry at the ten thousand things that vie for my time, attention, and money, on the most mediocre of my days. Ten thousand things that seem to stretch far and wide and yet have no real bearing nor genuine interest in my life.

I allow it to happen to me though; it’s not the fault of those nameless, faceless, and yet omniscient entities, it’s mine. I let myself become distracted and distressed by events and persons who happen to be half a world away, beyond my physical and perhaps intellectual grasp. I am NOT one who enjoys feeling powerless about situations, even if they be a million leagues afar and property (or fault) of someone else.

However, I also cannot solve all the problems or atone for all the situations that may ravage the globe. I simply am not capable of, nor would I be proficient at, as a single human being, carrying all the sorrows of the world. Mine is to do my little part, help where I can, and carry on.

It is a hard pill to swallow at times, realizing just how small and insignificant I might be.

And yet, there in my grandparents’ garden, it is a comfort to be touching the grass with my toes and devouring the sweetest of plums under one of the many apple trees, observing my young, beautiful son play in the yard. To feel the abatement of worry, and the arousal of our most basic senses seems like a tiny vacation to me. I have left my smart phone inside, ringer off, and I don’t miss it for once. I wish to recede from the world and become “smallish”, if only for a moment or so.

If restricting my world to the very simplest of pleasures for a weekend makes me happier, what does that say about the manner in which I generally run my life? What does it say about whom and what I let into it? How did I let it go this far? And how do I re-center myself and my life in what seems more real?

I’m not sure about the precise logistics yet, but I’m working on it…

Late summer harvest

Other than the peaches (which were from a stand), the other produce was plucked from either my grandparents’ garden, or the garden of a nearby friend, and gifted to us before our return home. They were all succulent and delicious! I hope y’all get to enjoy some of the season’s best!

Ever so much thanks to our friends and family for a lovely weekend, and a minor resurrection of my humanness.

Stay hominid, stay cozy.