We’re just sitting here, not doing very much, me and the dog. She’d really like me to finish up doing not very much and take her for her second walk, but she hasn’t become obnoxious about it yet—just the occasional look and sigh. Being in the house is boring. The outside world calls. There’s snow outside and run through, and smells to discover—new dogs to meet.
“Soon, Bumblebee,” I tell her. “I need just a little bit longer to do nothing, right here.”
I’ve had a really productive week and, thus far, weekend, and so I feel allowed, justified to do nothing right now. Glorying in it, really—thinking that after I walk Bumblebee and commune with nature and give my body fresh air and exercise, I will return to doing nothing, and feeling good about it. It seems like that kind of day. The kids are coming for supper but my mother made a Babi dinner for us yesterday, and I resisted the urge to send it to Sean’s house with the kids, so I don’t even have to cook tonight. Here I am, sitting. Staring into space—it’s almost meditation. Reading The Artist’s Way again, and sipping black coffee, and thinking that maybe I should return your texts, but, you know, that feels like work right now, so, actually no… doing nothing, feeling okay about it.
I’ve done nothing a lot over the past six, nine, twelve months, but most of the time, feeling nothing does not feel good, right? I mean—oh, what do I mean—I mean, like with so many things, it comes down to choice. Right now, in this moment, I am choosing to do nothing, to rest in this space, and it feels great.
Last month, I did nothing, a lot, because I felt incapable of doing anything, and so I wanted to act, but I couldn’t, and I did nothing, and it felt awful…
Today’s nothing feels so good.
I worked. I met deadlines. I finished—even though the circumstances were hard and, to be honest, I did not want to do the work very much, and it was hard to focus and think. But I did it.
And I went grocery shopping and did the kitchen laundry and tidied my apartment—washed the floors, even—and I did not bail on the one social commitment I had made for the week. And yesterday I did all the things I was supposed to do, both for myself and for others.
And I said no to some other ones.
And so today… I get to do nothing.
The dog is getting agitated. The nothing is about to be interrupted by a long walk, during which I will listen to an audiobook, and think about nothing.
And after which I might have a nap.
A friend wanted to watch movies with me today… but that seems like something. I’m not sure I’m up for it.
It is, very much, a do nothing sort of day.