What soothes you?

Alitaptap

Really Experienced
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So I read this particularly good article in the NYTimes about awe and enchantment that resonated. How seeking particular things that soothe you, following personal pleasures so to speak, leads to feeling alive again, and ultimately, to inspiration:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/27/...ytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare

Thought I’d share it with all of you, and ask the question, what soothes you?

I’ll start with myself to set this off. I love watching the sky every morning, turning from cold to warm, squid black deep to navy then powder blue with hints of warm lemon on tree barks. I laugh as every day this fat Maya bird outside, bullies the rest, jumping on them, stealing their food, basically wreaking havoc as the rest go about their merry way.

And in the late afternoons, while walking my black lab, it’s the way the light filters through the trees, casting shadows on the pavement as I feel the cool wind on my skin. It’s during these times of non-thought that ideas come, so I thought to ask, how about you?
 
Comic books. They were the bright spot in an otherwise shitty childhood and even now if I buy a collection or just go through my own, looking at them, putting them in order, reading one or two has a calming effect on me.
 
Ambient drone music 1.5 + hours in.

Of course, outlier meteorological events, sunrise and/or sunset, a special view of oceans, mountain range, forest, etc. works magically but that's not as dependable/accessible as spinning some Aphex, Stars of the Lid, Brian McBride and slowly repath to the most creative areas of my mind.
 
Mist on a flat lake at dawn. Ceilidhs. A comfortable seat beside a camp fire after a long day on a river. The second chapter in a really, really great book. Wool socks on a cold morning. Staying in on Friday night. Hand made pasta with grandma's marinara.

Screen Shot 2023-03-06 at 7.30.50 PM.png
 
The splash and hiss of the water running under the hull of my boat as I head out to the fishing grounds. A walk on an overcast, foggy Northwest morning. The sound of my bike's engine as I roll on the throttle to accelerate out of a corner. The stillness of an old-growth forest, broken only by the sound of my breathing. The sound of a clear, fast-moving mountain stream headed for the ocean. The smell of hay when I break open a bale for the nags. The feel of her soft nose as the filly gently takes a treat out of my hand. The smell of fresh split cedar kindling. A NorthWest summer sunrise.

Mornig over Baker.JPG

Comshaw
 
The time I set aside every day to read in novels--most happily in the screened pavilion in my garden in warm weather. And, of course, with a glass of wine.
 
White noise. Definitely. The finer the better, especially if containing lower frequencies.

I'll also mention foot or scalp massage, but that requires a helper.
 
Floating on my back on the lake, staring up at the endless sky. Especially as the sun sets, bathing everything in soft pastel hues.
 
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I have a predominance of Fire in me, so I seek water. I live right by a river for that reason.

But, oh my God, sex is the ultimate soother for me, with a woman whose zodiac sign is a water sign.
 
  • Sitting quietly in a cathedral
  • Standing on top of a mountain looking out at the sea
  • Listening to the sound of waves breaking on the shore
  • The contented purring of a dozing cat on my lap
  • Distant thunder from an approaching thunderstorm
  • giving away my heritage here, but a distant solo piper playing a piobaireachd - the pipes speak to me in a way I can never put down sufficiently in words. I was one of the first girls to play the pipes at my school; it had previously been the province of boys only.
 
a distant solo piper playing a piobaireachd - the pipes speak to me in a way I can never put down sufficiently in words. I was one of the first girls to play the pipes at my school; it had previously been the province of boys only.
I get that completely. The wistful drone doesn't so much soothe me as give me chills. What an amazing skill to have, to be able to play the pipes!
 
giving away my heritage here, but a distant solo piper playing a piobaireachd - the pipes speak to me in a way I can never put down sufficiently in words.
One of the saddest things I have ever experienced was seeing the beautiful service dog of a newly deceased icon in our community being led to the memorial to the mournful sounds of a piper. Still brings tears to my eyes.
 
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