Note: This column was originally published September 2, 1996.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease
observing a spear of summer grass.
— Walt Whitman
Well it’s Labor Day and I feel more like slave than ever. Though it’s not to a gruesome existence digging coal in a deep shaft mine like my grandpa, I’m a slave nevertheless.
Chances are you are too. A Slave to the busyness of modern life. (I’ll bet a few of you out there are even too busy to finish reading this column about being too busy!)
Some people like to call it “work,” thereby legitimizing their slavery by aligning it with the great American god “productivity,” which we have historically embraced as morally superior and more meaningful than rest and relaxation.
It’s not that I don’t try to break free of the bondage. It’s just that in this ever-busier world, it’s akin to trying to get off a train that never slows below 60 miles an hour.
Even my early morning time of quiet contemplation is fraught uncomfortable feelings and racing thoughts that command me to “get up and get moving!”
In a Psychology Today article, Stephen Rechtschaffen, MD, wrote that he believes that, as our lives grow faster and faster, we create a chasm between our emotions and our thoughts — which operate at different speeds. (Thoughts are processed electrically, communicating faster than our emotions, which are hormonal and chemical.)
In today’s busy world, says Rechtschaffen, we use “mind time” to juggle upcoming events, leaving no time to deal with or process our slower moving feelings — so we repress our “ stuff them” down inside.
But our emotions don’t disappear. The moment we begin to slow down, they come flooding back — which is why many people report that when they try to relax, the feel extremely uncomfortable emotions. So, logically, they get busy again to repress them. (I’ve long been a follower of the belief that busyness, if left unchecked, can become an addiction — a medicator of feelings no different than alcohol or other drugs which keep us in a vicious cycle that robs us of our relations ship with our whole self.)
With today’s emphasis on activity, another pervasive feeling that comes to many of us when we slow down or take time off is guilt. After all, there’s so many things we could be doing! In fact, that’s part of the problem. There are too many choices.
The reason I find it easier to relax at the monastery is largely because the choices are narrowed to more simple pleasures — reading, walking in the woods, listening to music, napping, praying, visiting, writing.
Indeed, in her book “The Cloister Walk,” Kathleen Norris tells of one of the monks at a monastery she visited complaining that there had gotten to be too many kinds of cereal to choose from at the breakfast table.
I can’t help but wonder if, even though they had less leisure time, our ancestors weren’t more focused and relaxed because they had far fewer choices about what to do with their time off.
TV plays a big part in this. Studies repeatedly show that the average American spends more of his leisure time watching TV than in any other single activity. These days, we have cable and satellite, which astronomically increase not only the programming but also the commercials — commercials that call us to buy more, which, course, takes more money and urges us to get back to work!
And so, ironically, it could be the most difficult task we have these days is … avoiding work. (This thought brings to mind something I remember Redd Foxx saying years back in his TV role as Fred Sanford, “The worst thing about being unemployed,” he asserted to one of his buddies, “is that when you wake up in the morning … you’re already on the job!”)
Of course, if we are employed, most of us have weekends off and vacation time. But, here in America, even time off tends to be filled with activities — or just plain work. Hence the terms “weekend project” and “working vacation.” Another telling fact about us Americans in this area is that we average about half the yearly vacation time of Europeans.
What can we do about all this?
First of all, there’s the obvious: slow down and focus on what we’re doing in the present moment. Breathe.
For many people, a simple activity — like sewing or gardening — brings them back into a sense of themselves in the now. In my case, it’s writing, especially writing poetry, which requires a great deal of waiting — the antithesis of being busy.
One option is to “metaphorically” take whatever activity gives us focus and calms us into other areas of our lives — carefully sewing family experiences together, cultivating seeds of peace in the face of conflict on the job, creating “act poems” out of mundane duties — thereby allowing a pattern of emotional connectedness to accompany our daily routine. (How about, instead of trying to jump off that fast moving train, just letting it race on but ambling down to the sleeping car for a little nap.)
Still, it seems no matter how hard I try to embrace the idea of metaphors and mindfulness in my daily activities, I find myself getting caught up in the mindlessness of hurrying through my day so that I can rest when it’s over. I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but once got a speeding ticket racing over to the Assumption Abbey outside Ava, Mo. for a retreat. I was in a hurry to slow down.
Labor Day, just in case you didn’t know was inaugurated in 1882 by the Knights of Labor to celebrate and honor working people. The history and accomplishments of labor in our great country are many: magnificent structures, incredible art, innovative products, ingenious distribution systems — the list goes on and on.
And let’s not forget the power of work to give us a genuine sense of accomplishment, discipline and self worth. And unite us with family, community and country. But that kind of work should not be confused with “busyness,” which provides the illusion of those things at the expense of a deep connection with others and ourselves.
Still, if it is indeed true that the hardest job we have these days is to do nothing, we must not shrink from the task. We must honor our American legacy. Be responsible when duty calls. Show ‘em what we’re made of.
Here we go now, all together.
One, two, three … loafe!
J.T. Knoll is a writer, speaker and prevention and wellness coordinator at Pittsburg State University. He also operates Knoll Training, Consulting & Counseling Services in Pittsburg. He can be reached at 231-0499 or jtknoll@swbell.net
