I have discovered that there are valuable moments in life when a positive step in mental health can be found hiding in plain sight in our repetition and routines.
Traditionally, a step forward might be found, on the other side of a desk from your counsellor or doctor, in the clinical and controlled environment of the office, or, perhaps, while sharing a space with a group of strangers in a circle of chairs, sharing stories and exchanging empathetic looks, while experiencing a bonding around the hardest moments of our previous and current lives.
I found an immeasurable amount of help and healing in that context. However, to my surprise, they can happen at unexpected times if I am ready, willing and open to passing events during the banality of a day.
Driving in a cognitive automatic mode, during the maintenance of life, I recently experienced an unexpected, psychologically uplifting event at Augusta Recyclers just south of town. I had a subtle but transformative experience which was easy to miss, like a golden eagle above the treeline.
What really happened to me biologically and neurologically between 10:39 am and 10:51 am, when I entered and exited the raw metal section of the waste management facility? Through a science-fiction lens, if I had a compact MRI, PET scan, EKG and every other helpful piece of technology with an acronym, on the dashboard of my Ford pickup truck, what information would I glean?
I have been to the metal dump many times before and rid myself of similar loads, but did not have that small but cathartic release. Maybe it was possible due to my awareness of the moment and, also, the potential it had for helping me.
Before I had a mountain of professional counselling and thoughtfully prescribed medication, I was unaware such moments were even possible. It was a kind of self-help therapy in real time, or something along those lines.
A combination of three things occurred to make the event significant and helpful. The first was community contact, even at the dump and without any verbal exchanges beyond directions regarding the drop-off location within the dump itself. I have found through experience we can survive on a small dose of human connection, however, to thrive we need a community.
Community contact is at the centre of general health. We are social animals and, as such, we move in packs like wolves or wedges like swans. There are a rare few solitary animals.
The second is the absolute thunderous crashing sound the old metal cabinets and other random metal items created. There was a large drop to the small hill of metal. To me, it sounded more like the climactic moment in Beethoven’s ninth symphony, and less like an unwanted metal hitting other unwanted metal in a pile.
The loudness and nature of the sounds were surprisingly cathartic. There were sonic crashes like the electric explosion of a summer thunderstorm.
The third, and most relevant, is my fairly new awareness, which found profound in the banal. Simply but true.
I drove into the dump with the grey cloud of a small depression and drove out with a calmness, and paradoxically, an excitement about life in my body and soul.
My takeaway from the experience is that hidden in the humdrum of life, there is an opportunity for healing. Who would have thought?
Robert Skender is a qathet region freelance writer and health commentator.
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