Columnist Jasminda Madrid comments on well-being and relaxation at Penn.
Credit: Roger GeWhile walking through the trees in front of Leidy and Franklin in the Quad, I came across a revelation that would redefine my college journey. I discovered the importance of a hammock: my place to decompress.
All throughout my life, free time seemed elusive. Whether it was a matter of avoidance or simply being unable to carve out moments to myself, the concept seemed foreign to me. Then, during my second semester of freshman year, I found myself torn between two extremes: scrambling to spend time with my friends or anxiously poring over my essays in the Van Pelt-Dietrich Library Moelis Family Grand Reading Room.
At many schools like Penn, the notion of “free time” has nearly vanished as we adapt to life on campus. We often get so caught up in time-consuming club applications and meetings, bustling social lives, or daunting course loads that we forget to take a minute to snack on a Lyn’s sandwich in the morning with our friends or take a walk to the fruit stand outside Gutmann College House for some produce.
While commercial dining halls are meant to be spaces of relaxation, the amount of time I’ve spent filling out applications or conducting professional interviews in these spaces outweighs the relaxing atmosphere. However, the hammock does not harbor these same social interactions. It reminds me of the necessity of slowing down and savoring these simple yet vital moments of the Penn experience.
It was in a hammock’s embrace that I was able to find solace. I cried in a hammock after a difficult exam, sang the songs in my Spotify Daylist with my best friends, and swung back and forth at 2 a.m. when I couldn’t sleep. The hammock became a place free of the pressure of operating on the Penn clock.
Rising sophomore Hannah Stoitchkov held a similar sentiment and stated that she “loves spending time in a hammock, even when she has finals the next day or homework due that night.” It’s in a hammock that she engages in people watching and hangs out with her friends.
The hammock transformed into more than just a piece of fabric suspended between trees. It became a haven where Hannah could relinquish the relentless grip of time constraints and constant pressures imposed by the Penn environment. It offered a rare gift of unfettered relaxation, a precious reprieve from university life.
To me, the hammock serves as a symbol of the importance of self care and finding moments of respite in the midst of college chaos. It reminds me that while academic and social pressures may consume me, it’s essential to prioritize my wellbeing and seek out moments and places of relaxation.
Your escape does not have to manifest itself in a hammock; it can be anything in your life. Rising sophomore Prashant Bhattarai shared that his escape was the James G. Kaskey Memorial Park (better known as the BioPond). Over time, sitting by the BioPond seamlessly became a part of his daily routine, serving as a much-needed study break tool. Whether it’s a hammock, a favorite spot on campus, or a quiet corner of your mind, finding your own escape is crucial.
So, as we navigate the upcoming semester, I encourage you to discover your own sanctuary — your own hammock — whether that be the Relaxation Room in Holman Biotech Commons, Rittenhouse Square, or your friend’s room. Sometimes all it takes is a simple, tranquil moment to power yourself up and thrive in the whirlwind that is university life.
JASMINDA MADRID is a College rising sophomore studying political science from New York City. Her email is jasminda@sas.upenn.edu.
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