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When Nothing Is Really Something
It’s Thanksgiving Day. I slept
in this morning. No alarm rang to wake me. My eyes opened tentatively on
their own. The first thought in my fuzzy brain was that I had nothing to do.
I mean nothing that I HAD to do. Nothing at all. Now that’s really
something! Two pillows fluffed comfortably around my neck elevated my head
just enough that I could see mounds of white comforter swirled over my body
like whipped cream on pumpkin pie. Delicious! My next thought was more of a
challenge; to see how long I could lie perfectly still and make much about
doing nothing. Hmmm. Sorry, Shakespeare.
I suppose I could or should have
felt guilty about playing possum, but conjuring any sense of dereliction was
a struggle. I was floating into the void and happy to let go. This was MY
time. What luxury. What freedom! Yet, without pressures from the preceding
six months of weekly deadlines, I might not have realized how good
nothingness could feel. Life is about contrasts. Today I would not organize,
set goals, compose a “to do” list, or prioritize. Some call this sloth; I
prefer the term “intelligent neglect.” Those who live by the clock must know
when to turn it off. Too much scheduling creates a build-up of stress; until
we let ourselves relax, we do not realize how taxing that stress can be.
Creatures of routine, we often lock ourselves so tightly into the vice of
habit that we forget to allow any space for variety in our lives. Having
placed myself inside a box of projects and exams and phone calls, I had
forgotten what it feels like to have absolutely nothing on my plate. That
is, until dinner, of course.
I knew Mom had been up at dawn.
It seems to be her mission in life to prepare for the sun’s arrival each
day. It has to do with the suprachiasmatic nucleus of the hypothalamus and
melatonin synthesis, or maybe the fact that her circadian rhythm is just a
bit off. Homeostatic functions aside, however, the aroma of coffee and spice
bread gave her away this morning. I couldn’t hear anything but knew she must
be well into preparing the stuffing for poor Tom. Yesterday she informed the
family that she would be getting an early start on Thanksgiving dinner. Dad
and I spent most of the last week proving ourselves sufficiently inept in
the kitchen that Mom revoked our Thanksgiving culinary privileges. The
disappointment was overwhelming . . . but we were determined to deal with
it!
Distraction for me is an
effective nostrum. To overcome my sense of helplessness today, I took this
time to consider various activities that might be at least as pleasing as
kitchen duty. A long soak in the hot tub was first thing that sprang to
mind. Popcorn and a movie was a quick second. A few hours lost in the stacks
at the bookstore was definitely an attraction as was Frisbee with the dog at
the park. Of course, there was always ice skating or bowling. But things
were beginning to sound both excessively planned and too athletic. So, I
rolled over, closed my eyes, and somehow lost consciousness for another few
hours. The sound of faint voices calling, “Dinner is almost ready” roused me
from my bed. After a quick shower, I definitely felt fit for company. And
it’s a good thing, too, since friends would be arriving soon. It was 2:00
p.m. and the celebration was about to begin.
My Grandfather was first to
arrive. “Well, Boy, what’s on your agenda for the day?” he asked.
“Actually, nothing, Poppy” I
replied with a grin.
“Now, that’s really something,”
he chuckled.
I knew it was going to be a good
day.
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2005
- 2009 MWSA