Hooting Isn’t Just for Owls

“The man who doesn’t relax and hoot a few hoots voluntarily, now and then, is in great danger of hooting hoots and standing on his head for the edification of the pathologist and trained nurse, a little later on.”          ~Elbert Hubbard

My mind has been in high gear lately. I’ve been living on a steady diet of assumptions, suppositions, and hypotheses as I try to figure out what direction I’m meant to be headed. This morning, I went to hot yoga class only to emerge an hour later and discover my brain had taken the opportunity not to let go of thought but to relax and refuel for more mental gymnastics. Ay carumba!

After picking up the boys from school, I decided there was only one thing left to do to alleviate my mental stress. I headed out into the backyard to enjoy the perfect 72-degree, not-quite-yet-spring-but-completely-spring-like day. I took off my shoes, climbed onto the boys’ trampoline, zipped up the enclosure, and started bouncing. I’ve found myself doing this a lot lately. Yes. Adults stare at me as they walk their dogs by on the gravel trail that passes behind our yard, but I don’t care. I imagine that somewhere deep down they’re not staring because they’re shocked. They’re staring because they’re impressed that I catch so much air.

When I jump, I’m not someone’s mom. I’m a kid again. I stop thinking, and with each bounce I am freed of the burdens of seriousness, responsibility, and decorum. It’s hard to have a care in the world when you’re diligently working to perfect your spread eagle jump. It takes concentration, but it’s 100% fun. As I jump, hooting and giggling with my hair flying everywhere, I probably appear to be quite nutters. As the Queen of Rationalization, though, I reason that on days like this one bouncing is likely the only thing keeping me out of the Nuthouse. And, even if they’re still coming for me with the straightjacket, to get it on me they’re going to have to catch me first. Good luck to them!