I turn on my computer to write, but the battery’s dead. Like my own battery, slowly depleted from a year and a half of the hustle and bustle of city life. Always rushing around, my senses have gone into hiding to compensate for way more bright lights, colors, and sounds than they could ever truly take in.

I feel pissed about it, like I was lied to. The temptation of the city, with all it has to offer, and all its shiny things. Every advertisement promising happiness; every new experience or place or product tells me that’s what’ll make me happy. Promises they never keep. More and more and more stuff that instead produces constant agitation and is depleting, draining, and unfulfilling.

With anger simmering, I plug in the computer. I’m almost surprised by how quickly it starts up again. The life energy still inside, just waiting for a recharge. With the computer now glowing, I look up and around me. Sitting on the porch of a beautifully simple one room cabin at Mount Madonna Center, with nature all around. It’s a little community of cabins in a circle of comfort, surrounded by miles of forest protecting us from the harshness of the world.

I watch a dragonfly float above the fields of golden grass. I listen to the birds and watch the butterflies adventuring, as Sarah does math homework next to me. Silence fills the gaps, rather than tv or cars. A cat saunters over and circles my chair a few times, rubbing his fur covered ribs on my legs. Then, looking at me intently, jumps swiftly onto my lap. About 15 minutes of pets and attention before i turn back to the computer, and he lays down on my lap as my fingers start tapping. His quiet purr joins the incredibly relaxing background music of birds and breeze.

The words come in starts and stops, my mind not sure what to write about after its year-long hyatus. I feel an opening and an emptiness in my chest. It feels like numbness melting slowly. There’s pain in the thawing sensation, but i’m grateful for some movement at least. Pushing against the fear of what might come out, I type on, and the batteries keep charging. I begin again.

After a couple hours, my computer’s at 92% power. I don’t feel quite that confident, but I’m back on the path. The little glow in my heart shines a bit brighter, and I smile at the forest, giving thanks.