On Doing Nothing

Many years ago when I was in graduate school, I spent one summer -- one pretty perfect summer -- in a room and board exchange with an elderly couple in Kennebunk, Maine. They were like the grandparents I'd never had a chance to know. They were in their early 70s then, and were the kind of people I quickly realized I wanted to be: politically liberal and engaged, involved with their community, volunteers at a local animal shelter's board, organic gardeners, and big-hearted, creative tellers of stories. Plus, they always had wonderful political cartoons taped to kitchen cabinet doors.  There is so much more that could be said about them but for the purpose of this post, I will simply say that Paula and Bruce gave me more than they ever knew, in ways they could never have guessed.

When I lived with them, what they needed from me in exchange for use of an apartment in their house was minimal: mostly it was working out in their garden, which of course, I adored. They were my first teachers of the beauty of compost and I would spend afternoons, weeding, mowing, spreading chicken manure -- something you couldn't possibly ever forget. It wasn't a very hot summer, and in fact, it rained almost every weekend, which disappointed the tourists but pleased the gardeners. Honestly, I never felt like I was doing much for them, certainly not enough, and I realize now that our connection had very little to do with them needing help. Because I felt like I should be living up to my part of the arrangement, when Paula would tell me to take a break, I usually balked. She was someone who liked her naps. After lunch, which always included a lovely salad from the garden, the table set with cloth napkins and clever animal-shaped napkin rings, she would go upstairs and have a rest. I rarely did. At some point in August as I was beginning to pack up my things to return to grad life in Boston, she saw me in a flurry of packing and said to me "Sometimes, you just have to do nothing. Let yourself do nothing!"

At the time, I nodded as though I both accepted and understood her command. Really, I didn't have a clue. Take a nap? Do nothing...when there is so much work to do? HERESY. But still, it was *Paula*. She was special in ways that went beyond words. So, I mentally put it on my To Do list and tucked it away.

Those of us who are Yankees...of Puritan descent... whether we want to admit or not, we have a problem with doing "nothing". Or at least, I do. It makes me feel guilty. But recognizing that and getting beyond it took awhile.

I have taken naps over the years and as I have gotten older, began to discover the lovely satisfaction that comes from getting more rest. More than simply sleep, though, stopping the *doing*, whether with sleep, meditation, or just being, I have learned, is in fact NOT doing "nothing" -- it's the opposite. You may use language that suits you but more than the physical aspects of stopping, for lack of a better word, is the genuine opportunity for spiritual refreshment.

There is a famous Zen Buddhist saying that I love:

Meditate for an hour every day unless you are too busy. In that case, meditate for two hours.

If this is new to you, stop and think. Heresy, eh? Talk about turning our oh-so-busy lives upside down. 

Last year, the New Yorker ran a piece on the concept of hygge, which is a Danish (and other Scandinavian) tradition of being "cozy", for lack of a better term, particularly in winter. The descriptions sounded exactly in line with the idea that instead of fighting the weather and fighting what you need, giving it to yourself and others and refreshing yourself in the process. Because the weather is similar to what we in New England expect, it made sense to me. Think about the feeling of sitting in front of a fire, warm mug of hot beverage in hand, listening to the crackle, blanket around you. It's all that and more and I am integrating as much of this into my life as I can.

Here is the link to that article: 

https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/the-year-of-hygge-the-danish-obsession-with-getting-cozy

As I write this, the wind is howling and the temperature outside is about 5 degrees. Two days ago, we got a brutal Nor'Easter that dumped about fifteen inches of snow and kept most people inside. We are in hunker-down mode for next two days, when the weather is supposed to break. 

Also, as I write this, I am sitting in bed. I have been here for about five hours. It's almost dinner time. I have been in bed most of the day, with a dog quietly dozing at my feet. And furthermore, as I began writing this,  I had just woken up from a nap. Perhaps, I simply learned to give myself permission. 

It took me thirty years to understand the truth that sometimes, doing nothing is best. 

Your encore for the day? I think you know. Go do nothing.

Peace.