Yesterday I received a four-page letter from my friend, Adam. He spoke of getting a job in the prison, feeding the crows in the yard, meditating while living in a barracks, and getting up at 5am to find a quiet time for his yoga practice. He recounted in detail his gratitude to be earning money, his excitement of hearing the raucous caw of the crow, the feeble light at 5am, and the expansion of his body on the yoga mat.
I sat down to write back to him and wondered how I could find any events in my life to fill four pages. All I’ve done is teach yoga classes on Zoom, meet with students privately (and masked), walk, meditate, watch my husband cook, eat, and clean up. That doesn’t seem like much. Oh, and I’ve zoomed with friends for happy visits, taken some online philosophy and yoga classes, played and laughed with my grand-nephew. I didn’t even drive very much except for that one two-week motorhome trip to Florida to national parks. That about sums it up. What is there to say about that? Hmmm. Seems like I should have more going on, even during a pandemic.
So I sat and pondered. I took the time to reflect on my life during this past year since March of 2020. What I realized is that although I feel like I haven’t “done” much, I’ve observed quite a bit. Not doing has opened me to sacred idleness, momentary snippets of awareness during the day. How often do I look at the big picture of doing and miss the divine details of being alive? When I stop to pay attention, I see the ladybug on the windowsill. I notice the breeze wafting through the window. I smell the fresh cut grass. I’m present to now rather than getting something done— although the windowsill does get dusted. The ladybug moves along and the breeze lets up.
I suspect that many of us wake up and get on with the day. Perhaps the routine is wake up, eat, work, exercise, tend to the family, make dinner, watch TV, and go to bed. Repeat. The routine might not change, although the details certainly do. What did you eat for your first meal today? Did you taste your food? Was it sweet, sour, salty, bitter, astringent, or pungent? What was the texture of the food?
While writing this essay, I talked with a dear friend of mine who deals with back pain on a daily basis. She spoke of present moment awareness, of living fully regardless of her circumstances. She said that although she often cannot move around because of the pain, she lives her life in “sound bites” of activity when she can. Those sound bites are wonderful, she asserts. She refuses to let the pain rule her emotional wellbeing. She, like Adam, accepts the situation and makes the most of the circumstances. What arises in you when you can’t do what you want to? Can you take a breather and be still long enough to be alive to the world around you? Perhaps this is all you need to do right now.
Suggestion: Take five minutes now to do nothing except sit and notice. Simply observe the world around you, whether inside or outdoors. Become aware of sounds, sights, tactile sensations, tastes, and smells. No judging. Simply notice. No narrative. Feel your body. Use this sound bite of time to reset your clock to now. Then do what needs to be done. You may discover that you’ve already done enough.
May you be fully present to being alive as you go about your day of doing.