Here’s a common part of today’s psychiatry-tinged lexicon: “Right now I’m in a good place.” But so is: “Right now I’m in a bad place. ” Where are these places…? And how did we get there…?
Usually the places are not places at all. Not so much physical venues as states of mind. Ranging in mood from happy even joyous, all the way to frightened even terrified. Still, your precise physical settings can play a part.
Have you ever taken the time — and the feelings — to inventory your options? Among those reported most commonly: churches, seashores, hilltops, pop concerts, gardens, holiday family dinners, listening to music in your own room, falling asleep in your own bed.
Impressive list. But to be sure not complete.
Each of us completes the list each in our own way. There is almost always that special private place to which we flee. It’s our bridge over troubled waters. Our very own little blue blanket.
I was thinking about my own options the other day while rummaging through a little card & gift shop in town. I noticed the moment I stepped out of the cacophony of cars and pedestrians outside, I was in a cocoon of perfumed silence inside. Folks here were quietly strolling aisles of greeting cards, frilly baby toys, lacy huggables, and sundries of inconsequential baubles that would probably become of considerable consequence to their recipients.
There was some gossamery music in the background. the mix of ladies’ perfumes. the rustle of infants in arms. and this lilting language of endearment between the customers and the local owners. You know in your head that this tiny retail cocoon is just a business, and that the business of the real world outside is much more serious.
But for just a little while, you can’t help feeling you’re in a “good place.” And you intentionally linger. The real world outside will just have to wait.
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