Nothing looked like this:
7:00: Drop my daughter off at school.
7:30: two eggs (scrambled), hash browns (crispy), toast (sourdough), and hot coffee (decaf) at a local eaterie. (Breakfast in a diner is one of my all-time favorite activities.)
8:30: Back home. Put on headphones. Listen to The Band, Eric Clapton, and Edie Brickell.
Not while I was doing something else, but just sit and listen to the music because it is good music. Turn them up to 11.
9:30: Nap
10:30: Read The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell (I’ll spare you the details of how I was or, perhaps, was not dressed during most of these activities. But I will say it was mythic all by itself).
11:30: Hot buttered popcorn for lunch. More music.
12:30: Read some more. Lie on bed. Stare at ceiling. Bliss out.
1:30: Go to bakery. Buy giant cream horn. Eat in car. Spill crumbs everywhere.
2:00: Pick up daughter from school. Answer her question of why I have such a goofy smile on my face.
Doing nothing is sometimes an essential respite and can mean literally doing absolutely nothing, or it can mean just letting the day happen as it happens without a plan or process. A crazy thought, I know, in our overscheduled, over-obligated world. But as a periodic treat it can be just what the doctor ordered. On Monday I took just over five hours of my life back and did nothing with it and it was, well, glorious.
I recently saw a meme on-line that said, “When you ask me what I’m doing and I say nothing, that doesn’t mean I’m free. That means I’m doing nothing.” Amen. TZT