One of my favorite authors is Henry David Thoreau. He had a great appreciation for nature and the ability to truly rest in the moment. Here’s a post about having too much to do and not taking time out to rest and relax. It includes some of Thoreau’s observations from his book “Walden”.
When I started working full time after college, I realized that part of being a grown up is giving up the freedom of childhood summers. I was so disappointed to discover that I had only two weeks of paid vacation from my job each year. How could I possibly pack all the summer fun into a measly two weeks? On the other hand, who could afford to take more time off? I realized I’d taken for granted the fact that my parents had paid for my summer activities. I’d also taken for granted the freedom of those three months of time off each year.
This morning, I thought about all the things I needed to do today — clean the house, shop for dinner, prepare for an upcoming business trip, finish the wash and so on. On most days, I have a to-do list of tasks that fills my time. I thought to myself, “What if I just don’t do any of those things today? What if I go out and play instead? What if I just take a mini-vacation?”
This reminds me of an excerpt from “Walden,” the wonderful book written by Henry David Thoreau. I’ve shared these paragraphs before, but this morning, it seems particularly relevant considering my desire to take time off:
“There were times when I could not afford to sacrifice the bloom of the present moment to any work, whether of the head or hands. I love a broad margin to my life. Sometimes, in a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in a revelry, amidst the pines and hickories and sumacs, in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sang around or flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling in at my west window, or the noise of some traveler’s wagon on the distant highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time.
“I grew in those seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my life, but so much over and above my usual allowance. I realized what the Orientals mean by contemplation and the forsaking of works. For the most part, I minded not how the hours went. The day advanced as if to light some work of mine; it was morning, and lo, now it is evening, and nothing memorable is accomplished. Instead of singing like the birds, I silently smiled at my incessant good fortune. As the sparrow had its trill, sitting on the hickory before my door, so had I my chuckle or suppressed warble which he might hear out of my nest.”
Take some time out to give yourself a mini-vacation. Give yourself permission to go out and play, or as Thoreau did, sit in your doorway in silence and stillness, just being with the moment and whatever it brings.
Kathleen