Posts Tagged ‘Wander’
Getting Lost and Being Here
Tuesday, May 28th, 2019
I have no sense of direction. Turn me around and I get lost easily. Even with GPS on my phone, I can still get lost. I rely on the kindness of others to help me find my way.
On a recent trip to downtown Manhattan for a meeting, I got off at a subway stop that was apparently a good 10-minute walk to the place I needed to go. As I walked in circles trying to find my way, I finally asked someone walking their dog for directions. They pointed me in the right direction, and I headed off to my meeting. When the meeting was over, I was told there was an easier way for me to get back to mid-town. I began following their directions and found myself lost again. Frustrated by my lack of knowing how to get where I wanted to go, I paused to take a deep breath. I looked up and there was a huge sign, “Here.” That’s all I needed to know. That’s the place I needed to be – here.
Rather than rush to a subway, I stood at the corner taking in everything. I walked for a bit and came upon a café. I stopped and enjoyed some food and wandered some more. There was no place to rush to. All I needed was to be here.
All we have is this moment – here. While I will always rely on the kindness of others to help me find my way, I will rely on my ability to get lost, to be found, and to savor being here, wherever that may be.
Ahhh…Nothing to Do
Tuesday, July 6th, 2010
Summer seemed so exciting as a kid until the day came when I had nothing to do. I became bored on days when none of my friends were around or rainy summer days. I would mope around the house and tell my mom, “I have nothing to do.” Her reply was, “I’ll find something for you to do.”
Translation: house chores. (I was a master with the carpet sweeper.)
In her book, Slow Love: How I Lost My Job, Put On My Pajamas & Found Happiness, Dominique Browning has a wonderful perspective on the theme of nothing to do:
“Today I am happy to find myself sitting on the ground wanting nothing to do — no, not even wanting it, simply accepting that I am enveloped in nothing to do. I begin to understand how nothing to do is its own state of grace, difficult to find deliberately, near impossible to recognize. Nothing to do means I can sit and look and let my mind wander, then empty, then fill again, with wonder or with grief, with anything or with nothing at all. “Nothing to do” is not the same as “Nothing can be done.” One is hopeless; the other, the place from which hope becomes possible.”
As the summer days start to fill with plans for the beach and weekends away, I long for days filled with nothing to do. I am inviting the adult in me to give myself permission each day to sit and do nothing.
Choose to do nothing and see where it takes you.
Mary Anne