Beware the barrenness of a busy life – Socrates
I made a clandestine date yesterday. I blush thinking about it and my heart races with the apprehension of getting caught with my proverbial pants down. I mean, who does stuff like this? Especially at my age? Though let’s get real here. Age is a number and has little to do with maturity. I may be growing older but will I ever grow up? I hope not.
My date was set for after the verbs of the day. Verbs like – searching, finding, getting, giving, showering, sweeping, cooking, shopping, rehearsing, directing, fidgeting, scheduling, herding, pooping, watering, lifting, checking, evaluating… you get the picture. It was a busy day.
I am no stranger to busy. As a matter of fact I seem to be the poster child for “busy” these days. Working full time, mounting a great big production of Chicago in my free time, writing as much as time allows, and trying to maintain some semblance of relationship with my family and friends, I fall asleep most nights making lists of things to do in the morning and regretting the things that didn’t get done that day. I was spent. Done. Exhausted and I was ready for this secret rendezvous. I could do this. Nobody would know, so who could possibly be hurt by it? Guilt be damned, I needed this!
It began after the house was quiet. The early dark of the fall time change fooled my husband into thinking it was time to sleep, and he snored in the other room, football murmuring in the background. Even the dogs were settled for a long winter’s nap. I was virtually alone. It was time. My secret longing could finally be realized.
I shut the curtains, put on my bathrobe and lowered the lights. The mood was perfect and I was beyond ready. I settled in to my favorite position, closed my eyes and began.
To do nothing.
Taking a deep breath I let the silence penetrate me, deeply. I nearly moaned with satisfaction. My body responded, tingling with anticipation of the next, deep, deep breath. It filled me, quenching a longing I had been suppressing for days, weeks, dare I say… months? My body, my soul, my mind all filled with ecstasy as my blessed union with doing absolutely nothing fulfilled my deep, secret desires at last.
No verbs compelled me. No shoulds penetrated my bliss. I was finally, completely and irrevocably satisfied. My lust for nothing satisfied. I was. Satisfied.
I wallowed, reveled, luxuriated. I delighted, cherished, and savored. The busy verbs fell away, unimportant, and my adrenal set point of GETTHINGSDONE simmered to a slow, easy pace. Let it be. Just let it be.
It took less than 10 minutes to get me there. After so much time of secret longing I was readily and easily satisfied. And the best part was that as I got up from the couch, luxuriously stretched and went in search of something salty to eat, I felt just a little bit smug. Because I may be 55, but I’ve still got it.
Hell yes I do.