Retching back

“The music is too loud.”

“It is.”

“Why were we at a bar?”

“So why not?”

“It’s noisy.”

“We are dancers.”

“Nothing is dancing.”

“We are able to start the party.”

“I would prefer that they lower the volume. My thoughts speak for themselves. And when you start talking, everything gets a little too much.”

“I’m pleased to finally see you once more as well.”

“Dude, I didn’t want to be a jerk. It’s just that I’ve grown accustomed to the quiet of the woods, and all of this stimulation now feels like an all-out assault on my brain.”

“It’s time to shift your attention. Give me some details about the woods.”

“Right. I spent three months in this hut.”

“What’s he doing?”

“I’d get up at 6:30 in the morning. After that, I would take a short walk. Let some sunlight reach my skin and eyes. On most days, I would bathe for a while in a nearby river. I would then return and sit there and stare at the old trees and rough mountain ridges—possibly for about an hour.”

“You spent an hour each day sitting there, staring at nothing?”

“It is not inertia. I would, nevertheless, stare.”

“Kind of odd, but okay, you do what you do.”

“I did. In any case, I would then become disinterested and begin making breakfast. On sunny days, the hut’s windows would let the sun shine through, casting a golden glow over everything. If not, returning to the hut would feel more like taking cover, and I might light a fire and some candles to improve my vision.”

“Didn’t you have electricity?”

“I did, but my options were very limited and there were many power outages. I also enjoyed the fire. I felt less alone as a result.”

“Were you by yourself at all times?”

“I was. The first week was incredibly bizarre. Prior to that, I had attended numerous meetings, and if I wasn’t, family or friends were always present. Before ascending to the hut, there was a lot going on. As a result, I initially felt lost. I had no idea what to do with myself. Where did the time go? I swear I’d never felt so useless before.

After that, I decided that the best course of action would be to adjust.”

“But for what?”

“Believe me, I’ve asked that question numerous times myself. The truth is, I just knew I needed it. I didn’t really have any grand philosophical thoughts. Everything had picked up speed day by day. I was anxious. Always worn out. Always late. Fulfilling everyone’s needs by sprinting from one place to another. It was absolutely exhausting.”

“Couldn’t you just have taken some time off, unwound on a nice beach, rested, and returned to work?”

“Sure. However, this was not a one-time, brief recharge. I had no desire to recharge. I mean, I wanted to—but not always. I thought that everything was wrong. It seemed as though I was running away from where I wanted to be, despite the fact that I had no idea where I wanted to be.

You couldn’t have known. Nonetheless, I continued to run because that was what I had learned to do. It occurs to me that the phrase ‘being out of touch’ was probably coined to describe my state back then.”

“Okay, I see the picture now. So now that you’ve left that hut alone, have you returned enlightened?”

“Nearly. Actually, I’m just more composed. I get a slower sense of the world around me. I get overwhelmed, but not in an existential sense—like the loud music here.

I’ve cut out some obligations and established boundaries so that stress doesn’t last. Although I am learning late, I am learning. This was the first time I had made myself a priority in any way.

At first, I doubted myself every day. How could I? Who gave me permission to do that? I should definitely be working. My prolonged absence would undoubtedly have terrible repercussions. I was in a loop.

But the noise got a little less loud after a few days. I observed wild animals. They were probably there from the beginning; I just didn’t notice them. I started to notice how the colours of the sunset changed from day to day. Even though I still don’t know the names of any of the bird calls, I started to be able to tell them apart.

I would occasionally meet people who were wandering. I usually needed two to three hours to process that because it was so different from my solitary existence. That was exciting.”

“Okay, I’m not entirely sure what the point is. However, if it pleased you, fine.”

“Oh no, it didn’t. Simply put, it was the only way.”