Running away to the woods and hiding with 15 of your closest friends for 3 days and two nights is a great way to recover from a cold and to find peace in the middle of a chaotic year. For all the negativity around me in so many other areas, this was a calm and centering place that let me take a deep breath and recharge. At times I would simply lay on the basement couch and listen to everyone else run around outdoors, and other times I would join them by the camp fire wrapped in a blanket and laughing at their stories.
I remember how bright the stars were, and how many graced the night sky. How, because we were in the mountains and outside the range of light pollution from any of the major metropolitan areas, we could see deep sky objects and more satellites then I’ve ever laid eyes on without assistance. I saw so many shooting stars (meteors), and I curled up on the ground in a haze of Nyquil and Earl Grey tea listening to Bowie and wishing this was every day.
But maybe that’s the thing. Would I appreciate it if it was? Would I still love this place so enthusiastically if it didn’t have a time limit? It’s not that I think we should live our lives in stress and waiting for the next vacation to finally be able to unwind, because you should always try or balance and find that daily peace but … the limited feature of the Lake House With No Lake is that you go there and you know you only have 72 hours to make the most of it. A magic spell is woven around that time with your friends that no one can burst into – where no bad things can happen.
If we were there all the time, if we let ourselves live that way every day, I don’t think we’d be so enthusiastic, so driven to enjoy.
Being in the moment, etc etc, it’s important, blah blah blah. Do I have to tell you that?