It was time for a break. Time to relax.
Last week, I traveled with my husband along the shores of Lake Geneva in Wisconsin. He worked and I guess I did too. For me, it felt different in some way. Quieter, more refreshing and relaxing, I’d say.
Early last week I tapped tips of fingers upon new keys of a plastic laptop while sitting across a wide lake of painted blues. Swirls of foam slowly leapt over twinkling beige sand. Gray and white seagulls wearing orange beaks flew high above before diving deep for fresh fish. Yes, I was writing. But, no way, no how, did my mind or fingers feel like they were working. Instead, it was inspiration time! My body was planted in a wooden chair of slats across the beauty of sun soaked aqua. It hadn’t felt so free in a long, long time.
Our hotel room looked at a vast lake of water-color blues under a sky of the same with clouds of cotton floating every which way. We were fortunate to have a balcony with a view of children playing in the sand. Toys on land. Plastic pails dipped in red, dump trucks painted yellow and shovels in blue, too.
A quick change of clothes for the two of us before strolling along the beach. Time to touch the water of clear, feel the cool and hang our feet over the edge of the dock. Gazing at our good fortune, we saw sparkling sand on the bottom while seaweed of emerald-green drifted upward toward the sun. Rocks of all shapes sat plopped in piles here and there, reminding me of a child’s building blocks. Nearby, colored fins in baby sizes swam through oval openings of hidden hallways under welcoming waves.
Along our way home, we passed a beautiful stream feeding into the lake. It’s where I often stopped to read a book or write words away. That particular afternoon we observed a local artist nearby who painted in a Plein Air technique. Brush-paint-swish-dab-stroke. Repeat. He taught art at the local high school and so enjoyed working with his students. His smile was serene, so happy he was to live his life. Yes, he was truly relaxed.
Very early the next morning, when all of nature’s creatures and most of the earth was still asleep, a great storm raged across the lake. Flags blew atop tall metal poles at winds of nearly 50 miles per hour.
My husband opened the screen door of our balcony to view sheets of rain running like miniature mice across the street. Lake waters could not be distinguished from the sky. The color of water appeared to be dove-gray, meeting the horizon where the two seemingly became one and the same.
During the next hour, my husband and I lay under down linens, cold from the open air above, yet warm underneath. Sounds of the storm danced soothingly in our ears. Cool and fresh, slight sprays of mist blew between miniature squares of rusted screen. Deep thunder growled low in the back of God’s throat, while lighting flashed above an angel’s halo of gold.
Our senses were exposed to newness in the ink of that early morn. Hearing, Smell, Sight and Touch. Before, and into the dawn of day, relaxation set in.
Inspiration needs fuel in order to ignite the best of our imaginations. Give yourself the gift of taking a break. Your body, mind and spirit will be better for it.