Late last night, I came upon a book and started to read it. The title of the book is, “In Praise Of Wasting Time,” by author Alan Lightman. I saw Oprah interview Alan Lightman and was immediately attracted to his point of view, especially as it pertains to the pandemic.
Americans are so success and goal oriented we’ve lost our sense of what it means to be human. Instead, ruled by cell phones and electronics, we hardly have a free moment to relax and forgo clock time for expansive time or for no time at all.
Our power does not rest in the electronic realities that seemingly rule our lives. Our power lies in our personal and private connection to divine creativity we can tap, in moments of solitude and seclusion.
The pandemic affords plenty of time for a purposeful tuning out from the thinking of the world, e.g. time, deadlines, monotonous routine. The pandemic has also revealed suffering, hunger, job loss, a growing number of evictions and last but not least, death of our loved ones.
Bringing our art and contributions to the world is wrought with distraction and often influences that can be destructive, given the sheer amount of lost souls roaming the planet who suddenly want a piece of your soul in order to claim their own legitimacy, otherwise known as crazy makers.
I washed my curtains today in between writing these words. I put on jazzy Christmas music. I tried dancing to a Michael Jackson concert but his dark energy was disturbing to Pearl the dog. Back to curtain hanging, mending a few tears in the fabric, meditation and as always, walking with Pearl the dog.
The days are short and the nights are long, filled with moments that can be leisurely and filled with joy—as long as that is what we choose. OM
