Doing Nothing

I have spent the past two days doing nothing.  That is, I didn’t do anything I was supposed to do.  On Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, I didn’t even take a shower.

Why would I write about doing nothing?  Because, for me, this is extraordinary. I was introduced to my fiancé, Sprite, by a mutual friend. He told her, “Every move Alan makes has a purpose.” I agree with him.

I grew up with many fixed ideas.  Some of those ideas, such as “you must save money each year”, have turned out to be helpful.  Others, such as “people who exercise aren’t very smart”, have turned out to be horribly mistaken.  Not only mistaken, but unhealthy and against my own self-interest.  I did not exercise on a regular basis until I was sixty years old.  I was severely overweight until I was seventy-three.  My good health is more a matter of good genes and good luck than good habits and brushing my teeth three times a day.

Another one of my youthful ideas, which I continue to live by to this day, is that at every moment I must be working toward one or more of my goals.  Saving money, building a business, improving a relationship – all are targets that I consciously aim for every day of my life.

When my partner George and I founded our law firm we worked twenty-two days straight for twelve hours a day.  After two years I justified one short vacation by telling myself I was actually clearing my mind so I could be more effective at work.

Even now I want to give you reasons – I might, more accurately, say “excuses” – for my two straight days of lying around.

First, I had laryngitis last Thursday and I could hardly carry on a conversation with our guests at our Thanksgiving party.  I strained my voice and set aside Friday and Saturday to recover so I could be ready for work on Monday.

Second, I was setting an example for my fiancé, who is always working toward her own goals and seldom rests.

Third . . . well, even those two reasons are a stretch, but the third is simply that I felt like staying in bed, reading, watching TV, and being pampered.  Two full days in our bedroom just relaxing – I mean, recovering.  What could be more fun?  I mean, what could be more useful?  And Sprite didn’t really have to cook.  She only had to walk down to our kitchen, warm up Thanksgiving leftovers, and carry them back up to our bedroom.

It seems like another of my deep-seated rules for myself is that I have to justify every moment of my life.  To you?  Yes.  To myself?  Absolutely.

Penitentiaries can be less obvious than Alcatraz or San Quentin.  The bars of our individual prisons are the rigid ideas we live by.  These bars are both invisible and fixed.  They keep us working or refusing to work, eating, or not eating certain foods, every day of our lives.  My question is:  which of your own iron rules do you want to continue crouching behind, and which might you want to soften or remove?

But now it’s Sunday and I’m back in my comfortable self-chosen cell, working on this blog and answering last week’s emails.

In half an hour I have an appointment, so it’s back to work as usual for me. I hope all of you had a lovely Thanksgiving and that you too found some time to do nothing. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Alan