A number of years ago, I found myself sitting in a huge, old ship captain’s house, built in 1876, along Lake Erie. I settled myself in the parlor, a square, high-ceilinged room. Rocking gently in a big white rocking chair, facing a large, lovely watercolor of rowboats lined up at a dock, I blissfully sipped my coffee.
What I was actually doing, though, is “be”-ing.
I remember that moment because, of all the things in my life, “be”-ing is perhaps the hardest. I have a long, long history of “do”-ing, but “be”-ing? Not so much.
I used to know how to do it. I remember many times in my childhood when I lay in the grass, just watching the ever-changing shapes and textures of the clouds overhead. Sitting on an old porch swing, staring into space. Creating an alternative universe on the ceiling as I gazed up at it (while ostensibly taking a nap). Pretending to be a horse as I galloped around the yard. Simply looking at a bird— really, really looking at it.
It seems so much easier, somehow, to shed the do-ing, the constant flow of shoulds, musts, don’t-forgets that clutter my daily life, when I’m somewhere away from home. At such times, the only mission at hand is rest, relaxation, recharging of the batteries. Precious time, without the distractions of things waiting to be done.
I wonder: do they really even need to be done? Or is “do”-ing a path I chose, which implies that I can choose differently?
I value the fact that I’m conscientious; that it serves me (and others) well. But does it truly matter that much? I think not. Don’t we, each of us, have intrinsic value, apart from whatever we do in life? Don’t we have a private, interior self who inhabits the world just as we are, without all the outer trappings we feel we must put on? Can we even access that self after ignoring it for so long? Is it only what we do that makes us precious to the world?
I mean, really: Just consider that every revered and long-remembered person in history is famous for things they did or said. Imagine if we instead valued their very “be”-ing: what if we had an Olympic event dedicated to living in the moment? The announcer might say: “Kathy is moving her arm towards her coffee cup, very slowly. Look at that: she has raised it to her lips to drink, and now she’s putting the cup back on the table! She is a true champion, far ahead (behind?) all competitors! No one sits in a chair and sips coffee like she does!”
At this very moment, I’m looking out the window of my study, in the house I just moved into. The trees are dancing gently in the breeze; the early morning sun is peeking through the branches, with the promise of a beautiful day to come.
Is this moment more valuable than answering texts, buying groceries, paying bills or washing the car? Could it perhaps be even more valuable?
I read an article that said Italians easily recognize Americans on the beach, regardless of socioeconomic cues, style of dress or outward appearance, strictly by their actions; specifically, by their inability to simply “be” on the beach.
Americans, it said, carry blankets, food, water, sunscreen, magazines and electronic gadgets. They sit restlessly on the sand, fussing with ear buds, adjusting their sunglasses, munching on chips, checking their email.
Italians, on the other hand, gaze out to sea, lost in the moment, at one with the rhythm of the waves. Their movements are languid, un-self-conscious. They are “be”-ing, not “do”-ing. They leave everything behind, in their homes or hotels. Unencumbered, they live in the moment.
How about, just for today, we allow ourselves to simply “be”? Isn’t that enough?
Kathy Baker is a writer and speaker, a messenger of encouragement who loves to touch hearts and tickle souls with her work. She is the author of “Leaving Adversity Plaza,” and “A Tale of Three Choices: His, Hers, Mine.” She loves hearing from her readers and can be reached at [email protected].