The Fine Art of Doing Nothing

Baby Boomers come from all walks of life, all educational levels, all ethnicities. Aside from the time period during which they were born, it is almost impossible to characterize them. Yet a few generalities seem safe. Earlier generations may have grown up with a different work ethic because they lived in a largely agrarian society. Chores had to be done in order for the family to eat and survive, and everyone had their own responsibilities, often according to their age. The point is that all had something to contribute. In my fathers farming family, he was the youngest and in his earliest memories he had certain chores to do before school and after school, and a heavier load on the weekends. Perhaps because of those formative years, my father never really learned how to relax. Oh, he would get comfortable on the couch in front of a televised football game and fall into a window rattling snore. But aside from that he was usually busy at something or other all the time. He just couldn't bring himself to sit and relax. He didn't enjoy reading all that much, and he really couldn't understand why anyone needed a hobby. There were always leaves to rake or weeds to pull or lettuce to pick or limbs to pick up. At night, we would have supper (dinner was lunch, supper was the evening meal) and then he might watch one of the three evening news channels. But then he was up and about doing something.

I'd like to believe that I inherited my father's finer qualities, including a solid work ethic and a streak of human kindness, but there is one major difference. I know how to relax and I do have hobbies, including writing. Of course there are always things that need to be done when you own a home. There always seems to be a light bulb that needs changing, grass to cut, trash to take out. But certain other things also demand my attention. Things like playing the piano for a few minutes or an hour, or more. Or writing an essay on something that caught my attention. Or reading. But once in awhile, especially in the spring and fall, when the weather is fine and the breeze is gentle, I can just sit on the deck in the cushioned swing and do absolutely nothing but ... BE. I call it the "fine art of doing nothing", but that doesn't begin to describe it. Relaxation is not a science, though physicians might tout the importance of stress relieving rest. It is an art, and those with a real talent for it can take it to mind boggling levels. I have a friend who believes that exercise of any kind is just bad. He says, "If you never use it, it will never wear out." On that we do not agree. But I believe that one should not over use the body or the mind all the time either. At times I might appear to be doing nothing at all. But that is deceptive. I am not lazy or indolent or shiftless or any of the many other derogatory terms that some might want to cast in my direction. I am developing my art. Some with less talent might start to fidgit after just a few moments of idleness. But when I am really in fine form, I can sit for an hour or more doing absolutely nothing at all. I may idly push myself back and forth in the swing very gently, but not with any real enthusiasm for it. Mostly I'm just sitting. I'm observing how my body feels, how my lungs expand and contract, how my belly moves when I breathe. I'm noticing how often I blink. I'm watching how the cloud formations change and how they might move at different speeds at different elevations. I'm wondering how many squirrels could possibly cross my yard in a single day, or how many chipmunks must now live under my deck. I'm wondering where that jet is going and where it came from. I'm observing all the ways I can move my fingers and how amazing the human hand really is. On a deeper level I am thinking about whether I have any "baggage" that I am still carrying around and how best to get rid of it. I'm trying to weigh the difference between what I want, what I think I need and what I REALLY need. I watch the trees for signs of change in the seasons. I think about how they
offer so much and yet they too appear to be doing nothing much at all.

The value of this art is beyond measure really. It is about being here...now. Not thinking about past or future, but fully absorbing right now. Some folks never stop to smell the roses, others only smell them. I want to observe them and marvel. And in todays hectic world, there just never seems to be enough time for that.