Safety has been uppermost in my thoughts lately, for many reasons:
- I drive a car in the city of Boston, well known for its creative, vocal, confused, and — according to a judgmental article — worst U.S. drivers,
- snow will be coming soon to the city that “ranked dead last among cities with more than 1 million residents,”
- I have a very unusual heart blah blah blah blah,
- I’ve been feeling somewhat out of breath lately, but that could be for so many reasons, and
- I’m a group therapist and creating a safe enough environment for participants is my job.
Last night, at the beginning of a therapy group, I gave people a few minutes to mindfully focus on a real or imagined place that was safe for them. Since I never ask group members to do anything I am not willing to do, I also got a chance to take a little mind vacation. Usually, when I do that specific mindfulness exercise, I build, in my imagination, a location that includes:
- the beach,
- a tent that is open to a warm and soothing breeze,
- colorful pillows, and
- a cat, somewhere
… however, last night, in group, I visited a real place, from my memory:
(Photo of Garden in the Woods found here).
When I went to Garden in the Woods last night in my mind, I found a bridge over a beautiful brook where, many years ago, I took some time to be mindfully present, in the moment, using all my senses.
If you were to take a few minutes, right now, and go to a safe place in your mind, where might it be? What might you see, hear, smell, touch, feel, and experience there?
Last night, the people at the therapy group described real places, imagined places, lots of different places, as their “safe place.” Somebody also named “this group” as a safe place, which was wonderful for me to hear.
Here are some photos I took yesterday, on my way to and from work, with safety on my mind:
Those are all real photos; none of them are imagined places or things. However, for that last picture, I did imagine a Cold-Gear Monster* eating the last of the tuna noodle casserole.
Eeeeek!
What music could safely fit today’s topic? Here’s something:
If listening to “Safety Dance” by Men Without Hats, found safely here on YouTube, isn’t safe enough for you, I have another musical suggestion. Last night, as I felt the first drops of precipitation on my walk back to my car:
… I heard this song by Pat Metheny (whom I’m seeing in Worcester, Massachusetts, which probably doesn’t have such great drivers either, in two days):
If it feels safe enough to go there now, you can find the YouTube video of the Pat Metheny Group‘s “Spring Ain’t Here,” here.
And I agree with Pat. Spring ain’t here.
Thanks to everybody everywhere who is doing their best to stay safe enough, today (and I hope hope hope that includes you, too).
* “Cold-Gear Monster” is the best name I can come up with, in the moment, as I am trying to remember the name of that friggin’ thing (which I love, by the way) that goes around your neck to keep out the cold but which is NOT a scarf. Any ideas for a better name?
Stay safe- keep safe- loved this post and your photos are wonderful! 🙂
I am doing my best staying and keeping safe, and your complimentary and caring comment helped!
Cold-Gear Monster it is! Staying safe today and hope you will too.
Thanks for bringing that hope today, Emilie!
While I prefer — Cold-gear monster — I’ve heard it called a muffler, a scrunchie and a cowl… none of them as imaginative as your’s!
I have a song for you today — it was playing while I was reading your post and it makes my heart sing and my soul dance — Alexi Murdoch — Something Beautiful – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NfJAh6hrCzw
“Cowl” is the word I was trying to think of this morning, Louise. Thank you, and thank you for the comment and the great music!
I visited Boston many years ago and found the city to be beautiful. We spent one day just driving around Beverly admiring the landscaping of the yards of peoples homes. Another day we went whale watching and it was spectacular. A baby whale was breeching and the mother and baby followed the boat for the whole tour. We stayed at someones home and I remember at night looking out onto the harbour and seeing naval ships all lit up. It was a stunning display of beauty and power.
Many thanks, from beautiful Boston, for your evocative visit today.
Snow in Boston & bad drivers — that really is scary!
My safe place? Anywhere — especially at the edge of the ocean — with all my kids and my husband. I feel safest when I know they are all safe, and happiest when we are together discussing some crazy thing. Likely, a math thing that is way beyond me, or a physics thing, but anything will do.
Hope you have a good, safe day.
Your safe place made me feel warm and happy, Maureen. And I did have a good, safe day.
Over the years, in my meditations, my safe place has changed a few times. I also have a haven in my back garden. As for Boston, my daughter was stationed there for a year or so when she was flying for TWA and loved it. One time that I visited her, we were in a stand-still, blinding snowstorm and on the last plane out for Miami where we flew to Nassau for a vacation.
Thanks for sharing all these great places today. This place is always better when you drop by!
Thank you, Ann, for that lovely statement. How are you feeling these days?
Easily tired. Not sure what that’s about: (1) work (2) age (3) heart (4) cold weather (5) anxiety about the previous four? Thank you, very much, for asking.
Remember to take good care of yourself Ann, others can’t do it for you. Beautiful post 😀
Beautiful comment, Irene. Thank you.
Since the part of the subject was car driving in Boston, the Cold Weather Gear was, I think I must safely say — as Louise pointed out above — that in my “neck” of the woods, that Cold Weather Gear was called a Muffler.
Be careful, Ann, maneuvering your way to Worcester in two days to see Mr. Metheny, because Spring Ain’t Here and the roads may be full of snow and that always leaves me short of breath, too.
When I stick my neck out on Sunday, Mark, to go to that concert, I’ll be thinking of this great comment.
Great place. Lotta history. Did a lot of study on 1600’s Massachusetts Puritans.
Lotta gratitude, from me, whenever you drop by.
Love the photos Ann. I have had so much safety training over the years I almost want to run outside when the tornado alarms go off, or at least run to the window to check for signs of the funnel clouds. I am a certified weather spotter, so one of my “jobs” is to watch for the clouds, or the hail the is a precursor of a possible tornado.
Please take care yourself. I’m hibernating for the winter now, only going out for necessities, and then only when absolutely needed to prevent death. Chocolate is a necessity, milk not so much, unless it contains chocolate.
One tip to pass along–be prepared for bad weather. Keep an emergency kit with flashlight, candles, extra meds, bandages, batteries, water, food you can eat cold, paper products, even more water, games and books that don’t require electricity to play or read. Just stop and think about the stuff you might need 100 years ago, and keep it on hand where you can get to it in a hurry if needed.
You are inspiring me to take even better care of myself, keeping all the necessities nearby, including chocolate and your lovely thoughts.
A place that makes me feel safe – two actually – are in Central New York, our former home: Beaver Lake Nature Center and Onondaga Lake Park. We’ve walked both many times, including our visit this past summer.
Ann, you have many fine suggestions. I didn’t feel “safe” with “Safety Dance” – frightening characters cavorting about. But Pat Metheny’s music always transports me to a beautiful place. Enjoy the concert … and be safe this winter and always. 😉
Thank you for this lovely comment, Judy, which definitely helped me feel safer. And I’m looking forward to the concert, now just one day away!
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That was a good exercise. I realise (not for the first time) how lucky I am. I feel safest here, in my own home and garden. I meditate at my desk and feel totally comfortable. I wish I could give this security to so many others who are not as lucky.
Honestly, Hilary, I feel safer knowing that you are out there, in your home, your garden, and the world.
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