APRIL 18, 2020 – Daily for a fortnight I’ve been doing “deep breathing” exercises for meditative reprieve from anxiety. One of the exercises calls for sitting comfortably, eyes closed, and thinking of a word, five or six times, as you inhale, then another word, again repetitively, as you exhale. The selected words should relieve stress—like, “surplus, surplus, surplus [toilet paper],” for example. Okay, [okay, okay]. I’m kidding; more like, “roses, roses, roses,” then “songbirds, songbirds, songbirds.”
Do this daily for five to 10 minutes, so promises the internet, and eventually you’ll discover levitation—the ultimate stress-reliever!
I’m still a novice, so for the whole of my sessions, my butt remains firmly planted on the wicker settee on our back porch. I have higher, [higher, higher] hopes, however. By May, when honest spring weather allows, the sky will be my limit!
My words? Easy: “mountains” and “flowers.” Not any old mountains and flowers, but those of the Bernese Oberland in the heart of Switzerland. I’d spent several memorable days hiking there in my youth, and of all mountains I’ve seen, skied, and scurried up and down, round the world, those peaks made the greatest impression. Adding color were broad fields of edelweiss and chamomile smiling upon the sun-drenched aprons of the Eiger, the Jungfrau, the Schilthorn.
For my initial breathing sessions, as I inhaled, I imagined myself sitting on an ornately-carved wooden chair (fitted with richly-embroidered cushions) upon a wide, spruce-plank floor of a classic chalet, facing a broad window opening (shutters and casement window panels flung to the side) framing . . . mountains. Then, as I exhaled, I imagined a solid covering of edelweiss and chamomile spilling from the chalet, down a broad slope toward the valley below.
During each breathing cycle I filled in details, from the grain of the wood in the window frame, to the configuration of snowfields on the main peaks in front of me, to the crags and crannies in its sheer, granite face, to the wispy clouds that come and go, to the ever-changing angle of the sun, to the tiny village that straddles a stream way down in the valley—off to the right a bit.
After a week, I decided to “build” at about my same elevation on the opposite side of the valley, another chalet and “deed” it to an old, storybook Swiss couple. I “put” a few bleating goats in the grass out front and “hung” bell collars laced with daisies around their necks. I then paid the couple a visit. Serving me fresh cookies and chamomile tea, they directed my view back toward my own—now tiny—chalet, just as sunbeams burst down upon it. I drew an extra deep breath as I soaked in the scenery above the timberline behind my patch of paradise.
Now I take day hikes hither and yon, exploring deep into the wondrous vistas.
To simulate levitation, on the next cloudless day, I’ll experiment with my make-believe, solar-powered, deep-range drone as I send it soaring above the peaks. Stay tuned. I’ll try to post some pics.
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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
