Humidity is one of the things that keeps more people from moving to this area. Between the bugs and the humidity, it’s enough to scare the faint of heart away. For those who hail from low-humidity places, our South Georgia summers can about kill a person. I’ve heard it described as breathing water, or heard someone say, “I opened my door (where it’s air conditioned) and it’s like walking into a wall." Yep. Both of those comparisons can be fair. Humidity isn’t a lot of fun, but it’s part of the deal when you live or visit here.
Don’t get me wrong. Humidity has its upsides too. My skin loves it. In fact, every year when we travel north to visit family, my lips and my hands in particular, remind me that they miss the blessed moisture content of the air back home. I also find that the humidity makes for some great growing weather for some plants. Others, not so much. But, it seems more plants can grow on my porch here without a lot of attention because they draw moisture right out of the air. All in all, though, I think humidity is a net negative for comfort and ease of living.
A couple of years ago I had an opportunity to travel out west and spend some time in Utah. I’m not sure they’ve heard of humidity out there. It is probably the driest place I’ve ever been. I was amazed that after a run in the heat I wasn’t dripping with sweat. Instead my sweat did its job; without high humidity it evaporated and kept me cool. I instantly understood why some say, “Yeah, but it’s a dry heat!” Around here, as soon as you start to run, you’re soaked. In truth, though, people in dry climates do all they can to create humidity in much the way we try to get rid of it.
I learned in my first year here that if I was going to store anything that wasn’t aluminum or plastic in my garage, I needed to run a dehumidifier. I discovered what happens with fabrics, woods, and some metals that are left to fend for themselves as they watch the cars come and go each day. I don’t need it year-round, but it runs for more months than it doesn’t. Humidity is this thing in our lives that we can’t really see, but we can see and feel its effects. Eventually we get used to it, and we learn how to live with it since we can’t eliminate it. Except for those who run off to the north for the summer. They’re either the smart ones or the quitters. I can’t decide.
My wonderment centers on determining what other things in life are like the humidity. What are those things that are unseen, but have effects that are felt nonetheless? Like the adage about the fish who can’t see the water she’s breathing, parts of our lives are like that. Some are good, others are neutral, and some are harmful. Some of it is the stuff that makes us who we are, the bits of our family history and our DNA that shape how we view the world and interact with others. Most of those things, I hope, are positives. Other things might include our fears or our prejudices. Maybe it’s the pain of abuse, physical or verbal. Such things can and do cause harm, and we’re not always aware they are there until some part of our life starts to mildew or rust out.
I joked about how humidity can almost kill a person and the quitters who head north to escape South Georgia summers, yet there are things that surround us and envelope us that can hurt us, and which we need to get away from if we can. When we are dealing with the negative consequences of these things we need to find our equivalent “dehumidifier.” What is it that will draw such things away so that they dissipate and don’t affect us as strongly or at all? It might be counseling of some sort, or maybe learning and growing in a certain area, or any number of other things. For me, my spiritual life is my main dehumidifier. For others, it may be yoga, running, or spending time riding the waves or on the water. I hope we can all stay cool and dry this summer. I hope we can all find our own personal “dehumidifiers” so we can breathe the water of life and walk through the walls that might otherwise slow us down.
