Chicago Dispatch: on grass laying at the Promontory Point

                               

When summer had just started to hesitantly roll into the windy city, most patches of grass had signs that requested pedestrians to keep off the grass because it had a ton of pesticides in it. Now that we are a good part into the summer, those signs have disappeared and every patch of grass is free game. To enjoy the sunshine, cool breeze and green grass has been the highlights of this summer. 

My eyes closed lightly, my body rested and pushed into the grass, my legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle with my arms over my forehead is how I enjoy this weather. Sometimes I like to stretch my arms too over my head and cross them at my wrist. But this feels very vulnerable in public spaces and I'm afraid bird poop will fall on my eyes. 

A few days ago I took the Blue Line to Monroe and then the 6 Jackson Express Bus to Hyde Park. The commute took me over an hour but I was having a rough day so I didn't notice the time slipping away. Distraught I got off a few stops earlier. The original plan had been to go to the 61st Street Farmer's Market. My scattered mind got the better of me and instead I just wandered elsewhere in Hyde Park for an hour. Cutting across people's front yards, finding narrow and winding pathways, between trees and touching fences, I walked. A dark cloud was above my head and my thoughts were kicking up a storm. 

Somedays you win some and others you loose lots... 

of energy, of motivation, of perspective

and sometimes  even  sense of direction disappears. 

Eventually I found my way to Promontory Point. I had been there a few days prior for a big 4th of July BBQ Extravaganza with a bus load of people grilling meat, playing soccers and swimming in the lake. It was social anxiety galore. But also a happy summer day. It almost felt like a day spent outdoors when I was five years old and all I wanted to do was play, eat and swim which is most of how I spent my time during this BBQ. I remember enjoying the brush of green grass, the slippery brown rocks and the sandy bottom of the lake under my feet. They felt like accomplishment and pure satisfaction. Tactile, within my grasp and all mine to scale. 

Back to present day at the same exact spot my feet had carried me. Somewhere during the walk, the dark cloud had passed and body had taken over while my mind drifted away. I was breathing easier, taking in the fresh air and breathtaking blue skies. I didn't pack a bathing suit nor a blanket to lie on. I did wrap some crackers and stuff them along with a bottle of water into my bag. My legs buckled and my body sunk into the grass. As if on autopilot, I began to stretch out on the grass and closed my eyes. I let the sun shine on my face, on my hair and arms. I allowed myself to be vulnerable and unafraid of bird poop. I even took out my earphones to listen to the gentle waves crashing against the rocks below. 

Close to me a man was reading aloud, his voice full of expression. I let him read to me and I let his voice trickle down my ear. With each word, I felt replenished and energized. Instead of jumping up and trying to make myself useful, I lay there soaking it all in. 

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The Chicago Dispatch is a weekly status update that includes survival hacks, tips, cons and pros of a decision that Ivashkov chose to make during, before or after her commute. This post intends to help you understand or in a parallel world live through a decision that ,having seen the consequences, you can avoid making in your own life, unless you're a rebel. Then good for you man! 

Over and out