From the patio . . .
I did nothing today.
I breathed.
I sat.
I made lunch.
I walked my dogs.
I looked at the sky.
I scribbled.
I guess that is not nothing, but none of what I did today was on a “to do” list, a calendar, or, in any way, planned. What I did today was exactly what I wanted to do at the moment I wanted to do it. It was life in stream of consciousness.
What I did was slow. And present.
For the first time in my remembered life, I was not focused on a goal. I was not trying to accomplish anything. I was not trying to change, judge, criticize, alter, control, or manipulate anyone or any circumstance.
I have been aware for some time that life has no interest in my plans or dreams and so I dispensed with them. At least for today.
I did not try to impress anyone or be worthy of praise or even acknowledgement.
I did not try to justify my lack of productivity to anyone, including myself. I ignored my frightened ego.
Indeed, I did not try to do anything except understand why I have struggled all these years trying, why I felt the need to always be doing something, have more, why I tried to find some kind of permanence, something to hold on to, in a world where nothing stays the same, and why I worried incessantly about things that ultimately did not matter.
And now, as day changes into night, what I understood is that I will never understand.
Until I stop trying.
