When doing nothing is a necessary thing to do

I didn’t think it possible, without being really sick, to feel as if I needn’t do a thing. I could have a cuppa something, or take a nap, watch TV, or …. It was weird. Like learning that zero is a number, I discovered that “doing nothing” was an activity. Who knew? Of course, I had to make it productive. Here I am writing about it for Goddess’ sake! But it felt like I found a Hogwarts portal: I could float and drift and turn off everything that might distract me. I lay my body down in the middle of the day and didn’t sleep. Or meditate. Or pray. Or look at my phone. Miraculously, I didn’t self-combust. All those psychedelic trips were coming in handy. I could look at my hand as if I’d never seen it before. Been there, done that. The tricky aspect about unbusyiness is to refuse Judgment and accept Wonderment, to just embrace the lullaby of pure being.

For some reason, my mental state evoked the story of a beloved who was struggling with grief, and a sense of failure, plunging too often into despair. He accepted an invitation from a vital friend to get in a small boat into the big ocean. Once far enough out to be thrilling, the craft came apart. He wasn’t a great swimmer, and the struggle against the tide and waves and cold was shocking. You get the picture. But do better: put yourself in this sitch. One moment you are enduring the endless question, “What’s the point?” and BAM! the Universe gives you the opportunity to Just. Let. Go. A quick painless OUT. Instead, he called for help, the friend found him, volunteer rescue hauled them onto the shore. Grateful to be alive? Yes. And after a while, he also had a freer perspective on his life and choices. The realization that we can die at any moment is a core element of a life worth living (ty, Stoics). And yet, there needs to be a lull, a time between, that quickly follows any misadventure, or redirection. Intention is the fulcrum, and it’s okay to intend to do nothing, until you know what to do. When you are given a Cosmic dope slap, it’s time to stop and reconsider, well, everything. To consider means to study the stars, opening to heavenly instruction, as opposed to plowing ahead.

I didn’t fall into the sea. But my husband chose to die on New Year’s. A beautiful conscious process, elegantly medically supported, ending physical suffering. I was his “second,” and I’ve been totally fine. Okay. No problem here. No sobbing widow, moi. Really. But somehow, I think this is what my thrust into quiet is about. Adjusting to the space that is created when an important someone goes bye bye, for whatever reason. The cliche “a new lease on life” is for real. Life is supposed to change. I suspect this was happening while I wasn’t sleeping, or doing. I was lulling.

I love the practice called “When My Life is Ideal…” (ty, Atwoods, The Passion Test). It requires that we think in slo-mo about what ideal (not perfect) might look like. The first few times I did their core exercise, writing “When my life is ideal…” at the top of a page, it was all about toodooing and toodon’ting, to summon clarity. I was sending orders to the Universe, to help me redirect my energy. Never, ever would I have included “When my life is ideal, it will be okay to do nothing, to study the stars.” But I did ask for less fear and more pizzazz. More time alone and scrumptious time-suspension with friends and family. I’m getting that.

So, if my life is to be ideal, I must reject the prescribed models, the ones that were dictated before a “fall into the ocean.” The past doesn’t dictate the future, and genetic makeup is merely a suggestion. All this can keep us from doing art, going to the movies alone, or seeking a beach or park or whatever is your closest form of wild. Because ultimately, I am my own rescue boat. I am longing now for a life that softly, gently, supports the kind of person I want to be. Hence, I’m adapting the Atwood’s exercise for this purpose. I hope you enjoy it, maybe do it with me?

“When I am my ideal Self…”

1. I’ll take a breath before launching into dialog or action.

2. Days move forward on waves of lovely routine, essentials done effortlessly (ty, Greg McKeown).

3. I’ll recognize the importance of considering and appreciating all that I have.

4. My friends and family will know that I love them by my actions and words.

5. I will seek inspiration from others, and take more time to look inside.

6. I will not be afraid to fling myself into a windswept sea, metaphorically, to find a deeper calling, meaning or adventure that motivates me to live fully.

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Lulling