When was the last time you relaxed? I’m not referring to lying on the couch in your underwear, watching TV with a tasty, high calorie snack in one hand, remote in the other and a dribble of soda running down your chin as the images on the tube flash by so quickly as to render linear thought all but impossible. I’m not talking about taking a needed midday nap or even getting away somewhere nice for the weekend. No, I mean when was the last time you let go of everything else and just allowed your mind, body and soul to truly relax? Unless you’re a master of yoga or tai-chi, in a coma or passed out drunk, then the answer is probably never.
It has been said that only animals have the ability to truly relax; that mankind has lost it somewhere along the way.
I guess being the pinnacle of evolution is not all that it is cracked up to be. Perhaps there is a sort of weight limit at the top of this proverbial ladder. I have this image of our ancestors stopping on their climb to trade off one trait for another in order to reach the top. “Hmm, that opposable thumb might come in hand for difficult tasks like opening beer bottles and picking my nose. What to leave in its place? How about my ability to relax? Who needs that when you can have beer and clear nasal passages?” And scientists say that we are the best evolution has to offer.
I have two dogs, both of whom are with me now, loafing about and mooching food from me as I try to write. Neither is particularly talented, sitting and fetching are about the limits of their talents. I know for a fact that neither can open a beer bottle, nor can they pick their noses. They are, however, both Jedi masters as it were, of relaxation.
The longest I have ever seen either a dog lie motionless, barring sedation or heavy exercise, is about 15 minutes, the level of relaxation they accomplish in that short time takes me a full night to achieve. This also seems to be much more efficient than my method. When I wake each morning, it takes me a good 10 minutes to orient myself and get out of bed, much less actually get going. They wake from their naps, fully recharged and ready for whatever comes next on their itinerary.
Their itinerary, by the way, is pretty full, consisting mainly of eating and drinking, getting rid of what they ate and drank, wrestling with each other, personal hygiene, barking at things that only they can see, destroying toys of supposed “sturdy” construction and if the weather is good and I’m up to it going over the the Wise Center to chase balls and harass the golfers by laying what I refer to as biological land mines. The golfers call them something else, but then you can’t really expect a golfer to see the humor in something like that.
Any time there is a break in their busy schedule, they flop (you can literally hear them hit the floor) and take a short nap. It is not uncommon to walk around my apartment and see them laid out, almost is if they had been dropped there and forgotten, like articles of dirty clothing or discarded pieces of paper; the very epitome of relaxation.
So where have we gone wrong? What secret do they know that we don’t? Why can’t we drop to the floor, instantly fall asleep and wake 10 minutes later, perfectly refreshed? Maybe we have it wrong. Maybe it’s not the ability to relax that we have lost at all. Perhaps it’s simply that our lives have become too complicated and our animal friends remember something we’ve long since forgotten-how to have fun.