a little coffee

This weekend marks my first trip outside Chicago in six months. My first weekend away from a clamorous city of steel and glass and concrete. The reason being to go to my parent’s house in Austin, Minnesota to see my Mom’s art show and do a Father’s Day weekend kayaking trip. It was on the way back from this kayaking trip that I was suddenly struck with something surprising but suddenly so obvious that I did a double take- stared out the car window wide-eyed- thinking myself an idiot for not noticing this sooner. I was struck, struck! by the vibrant colors of the Minnesota landscape.

In those seconds, my brain could not comprehend a world uninterrupted by skyscrapers. All I saw was color, three brilliant, bold colors: green, blue and white. It was cleansing and relaxing in it’s simplicity and I realized an appreciation for certain abstract paintings right then. Those ones with just two or three or four colors painted in neat strips in simple patterns or geometric shapes on the canvas. That’s what Minnesota looked like right then. The first color at the bottom is a thick, lush green because the grass has been so thoroughly saturated with water. The second is a wide band of blue for the sky. Such a remarkable blue, a rich pastel blue without the veil of pollution and city grime stretching for miles and miles. And the last band is a thin white strip moving thorough the blue band for the cotton candy clouds.

I grew up in small towns throughout the Midwest so the green and blue and white should be normal to me, or at least not shocking. I didn’t realize to what extent the loud, jarring world of glass and steel and concrete had so thoroughly encompassed my mindset until I stared out the car window in amazement at the scene rolling by. There was the occasional elk farm or silo, thick, leafy trees and rolling hills, soy bean fields, cows. I used to hate this stuff, was annoyed by trees and little farm houses. I turned up my nose and said “boring” and couldn’t wait to get to a place where loads of people strolled down sidewalks and buildings rose above eight stories. But now I found this nature scene peaceful. For a second I understood why my parents like to go on nature walks, why kayaking (a leisurely kayaking trip) can even be relaxing. You’re in a quite place surrounded by beautiful things that allow your mind to decompress. A lazy river with the faint sound of water moving, trees lining the riverbanks with the occasional bird or deer. In the city there is so much sensory detail, from horns honking to blocks lined with skyscrapers and high-rises as for as your eye can see. There are trees and parks and sure, you can see plenty of sky and Lake Michigan, but it’s just in intermittent doses with the rest of the light and color of the city. There are days when all of this is too much and it feels like your brain is going to explode.

Regardless, Chicago, this boisterous, beautiful city is my home and I love it. I’ve learned that weekends or even a day away to a peaceful spot without the sensory overload are necessary; like looking at a vast expense of green and blue and white gives your mind a chance to breathe so you can take on a busier world. When I leave tomorrow I’ll be returning to my home with arms outstretched.