When I became pregnant in the States with the monster-child, it was generally accepted (for reasons I’ll not go into now) that this was going to be a purely solo flight for me. Despite this, I was lucky enough to have a fantastic young female doctor and a wonderful nurse called Bonnie, who led pre-natal classes for mums-to-be and their birthing partners. I think she felt a bit sorry for me because I didn’t have a birthing partner, so she offered to partner me herself and let me join the classes for free (and in the states, that’s saying something – long live the NHS!). Anyway, I digress ….
During these classes, we learned about breathing techniques and other nonsense that completely goes out the window as soon as the first real contractions kick in … but for those of us who were (initially) determined to go through the birthing process without any pain medication (hah!), we were given visualisation exercises. The premise was that if we could practice closing our eyes and imagine a journey through a relaxing scene of our choosing, we would eventually be able to drift into the scene to diffuse the pain of childbirth.
In my scene, I visualised entering a meadow full of wild flowers – cornflowers and poppies and daisies and buttercups, and cowslips and chamomile – and walking through the field barefoot, feeling the cool grass beneath my feet and the warm sun on my face and arms. Following a path, I would head towards a forest. I’d climb a wooden stile and I’d step onto a soft mossy carpet, strolling over to a large, flat-surfaced rock by a bubbling clear, pure stream. I’d lean back against the rock and lay down on the smooth, warm surface looking up into the trees. Sunshine peeked through the leaves, dappling the ground below with soft, speckled light. I’d close my eyes, bathing in the warmth, and listening to the sound of the bubbling brook and birdsong.
Green … everywhere, shades of warm, calming, soothing green …
Nowadays, I try to use the same visualisation technique when I become agitated or anxious, or when I need to turn off the noise in my head, or when my thoughts are racing out of control, and when I’m desperate to sleep. Very occasionally, I find can climb into a disturbing dream and redirect myself to that peaceful place, but I’ve not perfected the art of doing that yet… and goodness knows, I wish I could. I try to return to that warm sanctuary in my mind, (if I remember) during those times when I’m so restless I can’t sit still, and tears keep springing to my eyes, and I don’t know why.
The other day I stumbled across a place that reminded me of that forest in my visualisation. I found myself lost in my daydream, rooted to the spot, and transfixed in the moment. No anxiety, no fear, no turbulence, no stress. Just me, and a whole lot of green.
Green is the colour of nature and serenity. It’s neither too noisy nor too bland. It’s not invasive or intrusive. It’s not gaudy or overpowering. Green is rustic and organic. It’s stablity and relaxation.
Green is the colour of tranquility. And I like it.
© Alice through the Macro Lens