New Things Take Practice: Mid-day Relaxation

Self-awareness means learning about oneself. I learned that I have no chill. Sure, there are better revelations to have on a Friday afternoon, but now that I know this crucial information about myself, I can address it. 

I took a late lunch break and went to a structured Rest Space to relax in the middle of the work day. The relaxation would, I thought, help me move from one task that I found challenging, to one that I found much more enjoyable to close out a productive week. Every Friday, the room is set up for restful breaks from 2:10 to 4PM at Hart House, the University of Toronto’s primary recreation space.

When acting as a rest space, Studio A has everything going for it. The overhead lights are low while LED lights dance on the ceiling.  Some of them mimic the Aurora Borealis when projected on the front wall and ceiling. Yoga mats, a head bolster, blocks and a blanket create beds while battery-operated candles invite each person to disconnect. I was, as soon as I entered the room, excited about relaxing. That was, I guess, the first sign I would fail at it. 

When I was a student, I fell in love with Hart House. The building was already over 70 years old when I entered it for the first time. The archive photographs on the wall immediately made me feel connected to my father who had died a few years before I started university. He played basketball at Hart House as a student and, while none of the pictures hanging in the hallways were of him, they were from his student era. When I was there, I never thought of my mother who was a student at the same time as my dad.

“I’ve always wanted to see the inside of Hart House,” she said when I told her about that feeling. 

“You’ve never been inside! Why?” I asked her. 

“It was only for the men,” she explained. “The women had a new athletic centre when I was a student.” 

Hart House opened to women the year I was born. I find that significant and may have increased my attachment to the place. When I was a student I started swimming laps in its pool and it remains one of the most beautiful places to swim that I have experienced in my travels. In Studio A, I first started learning yoga more than 30 years ago from the legendary Axel Molema who taught in the Swami Sivananda tradition. Every class ended with the students lying in savasana pose with Axel guiding us through complete physical relaxation from the tips of our toes to the tops of our heads. 

I don’t think all my Hart House memories stopped me from letting go during the 30 minutes I spent trying to relax last Friday. Afterall, I swim there three times a week without issue and I can remember Axel’s restorative guidance. It was always the same method of soothing and I could have conjured his words up from that history. But I didn’t. Maybe I couldn’t.

Instead of thinking about the writing I was doing for work, I thought about the short story I am working on and how to change the ending to be more direct without over-simplifying the narrative events. I looked at the lights on the ceiling and thought about how so many of the new things I have been trying, like ecstatic dancing, virtual archery and going dancing at the Legion, all involve light projection and the constant suggestion that looking up, instead of just ahead, is important. 

The time I spent in the rest room made me feel excited about all the things I need to do. I was, though, every bit as exhausted when I left as I was when I walked in. 

Relaxation is, I have often heard, a skill that has to be practiced. Clearly, I need more practice. I will try again next Friday without ambition. I’ll let go to the memory of Axel saying, “bring your mind to your toes and let them relax, the feet, your ankles. Let your mind travel to your calves and tell them to relax…”  

 One day, I will have chill. 

My Try New Things Every Week Challenge to Myself started 12 weeks ago. While I failed at relaxation, I was successful at meeting alpacas, semi-successful at trying pickle ball, and set some ground rules when I tried infrared therapy.