One afternoon when I was about six or seven I saw my mom sitting in the living room staring off into space. “Wacha doin’?” I asked. “Nothing.” She replied calmly. “Nothing?!” I thought, NOTHING??!!! How could someone not be doing a thing? That was impossible. Hmmm.” As I looked at her she seemed peaceful and happy and whole, so I figured that maybe, just maybe, not doing anything was an all right thing to do.
The older I get, the more I try to be like my mom in that moment. Not the checked out staring off into nothingness part (although that’s kinda nice sometimes), but the part of her that is able just to sit, and contemplate life, and enjoy the present moment. The more years I get under my belt, the more I appreciate just being. And the less I think that it’s the “doing” that will define me in other people’s minds (or in their memory of me once I’m gone). Not that doing is a bad thing; in fact I quite like doing things. But remembering just to be; And to be peaceful and joyful as I go about my daily life.
