Ah…the temperature was in the low eighties. I did cleaning and household chores the day before.

It seemed like the perfect day to fill a shallow plastic container with water for my dog, pack a blanket and the book I’ve been meaning to start, and hang out in a city park.

From my days as a tour guide, I vaguely remember some statistic about 9% of the usable space in Chicago being devoted to parks and recreation.

While the city’s downtown has grand parks and gardens, some that include music venues or kiosks that serve pizza, hot dogs, and Dove Bars (another Chicago contribution to our food culture), each neighborhood has smaller parks.

I’m not sure if this is another association that comes from growing up in Chicago, bit I can’t think about hanging out in a park without thinking about George Seurat’s giant pointillist masterpiece, A Sunday on La Grande Jatte, which occupies a whole wall at the Art Institute.

I grabbed a long leash, trotted my dog,  India, to my car, and drove a short distrance to Gross Park.  There, I discovered a small theatre troop was performing Romeo and Juliet — for FREE.

I found a nice tree and set up camp there. I was glad I filled my water bottle with ice.

I stretched out on my back, took my sandals off, and ran the soles of my feet over the grass at the edge of my blanket.  In the shade of the tree, the grass was cool and I reveled in the sensation.

I thought more about Seurat’s painting, notable for its size as well as technique; a sweeping scene of middle class Parisian life composed of a million tiny dots of color.

God bless Oscar Wilde, the most clever contrarian. He turned the popular idea on it’s head. Instead of endorsing the idea that, art, as a representational form of expression, imitates life, he famously said, “Life imitates art.’

Somehow, when I thought about this, it made sense to me. Having Seurat’s image in our minds, leisure time spent in a park with unknown neighbors and pets, watching the world go by — maybe it’s something we learn to want.

Then I wondered: Is the image actually idyllic?

Do the inhabitants of the scene look happy or engaged?

Downtime is necessary.  At least it is for me.  I want to spend time away from my computer and phone and feel the grass on my feet.  Sometimes, I want to unplug.  (I realize other people enjoy bringing their screens with them while they stretch out under a tree.)

But I recognize that leisure, like gratitude, is a very personal thing.  True relaxation does not come from picking up the latest issue of Time Out and seeing what fun event everyone is expected to go to.

I’m not against going to the beach or street fair or music festival, but I think that relaxing and re-charging has more to do with following your own impulses on what your soul wants to do rather than following suggestions of what others might like to do with their day off.

I feel strongly that true gratitude wells up inside of you as a flush of unexpected contentment and does not stem from someone else’s suggestion on what to count as a blessing.

Whether someone is spending quality time relaxing or whether someone is bored in an environment that succeeds at taking them away from their daily routine depends more one their readiness to appreciate what they find in the moment than on their location.

I read the prologue for The Sellout in Gross Park, with the sound of the Bard’s words, from Romeo & Juliet, in the background.  I went home and watched a couple episodes of The Crown, then enjoyed making dinner from whatever I was able to find in my cabinets and fridge.

I journaled on my deck.

Following my own impulses on how to renew, rather than following recommended leisure activities, works for me.

Knowing how to enjoy things from the inside out is no small thing.