I just finished reading an article in AARP Magazine written by Bob Brody, an essayist and author. The article, entitled Relearning the Fine Art of Doing Nothing, reminded me that a walk around the park isn’t a race, nor should it be. Since my Bob (Robert Vander Meer) passed away May 30, 2024, I seem to be trying to outdistance my grief. Busy, busy, busy!
Brody’s article has me rethinking that approach. Maybe it’s okay to enjoy the good times as they come and not worry about whether I’m doing enough to stay engaged with life. I’m 80. Just how much engagement do I need? Well, enough to avoid isolation, but not so much I feel unduly pressured.
A good friend (also a widow), and I have agreed to start walking around a local park now that the days are getting longer, and the weather is improving. We’re building stamina for a trip we plan to take this summer that will require some degree of strenuous walking. I’m using the aid of a rollator (four-wheeled rolling walker for those of you who aren’t there yet), my friend under her own steam. After reading Brody’s article it occurred to me that with the help of the rollator, I can step right out, sometimes leaving my friend a few steps behind. Why? Because I’ve always believed that when you were headed out the door, there must be some place you had to be. For me, getting there (wherever there was) on or ahead of schedule has always been paramount.
After reading Brody’s article, I thought back to a time when just being a kid was the only thing I had to do, running wild through trees and brush, finding a hidden waterfall and underground tunnels, going places that would have given my mother a heart attack, had she known. Oh, my! Did we have fun and not a care in the world.
So, maybe, instead of racing around the park, I’ll slow down so my friend and I may talk to the dog walkers and tourists along the way, or maybe just admire the beauty all around, and the gorgeous buildings that make our town unique. And simply be.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll feel lighter in my heart because in this town where we lived many happy years together, I’ll feel the joy once more of being alive – as my Bob would say – in this great big, beautiful world. *Il dolce far niente, my friends.
*The sweetness of doing nothing.
I’m belatedly taking part in the Writer’s Digest April Poem a Day Challenge. Below are three new works. Enjoy.
Jesus didn’t show up out of the blue, and nothing about his time on earth was a cake walk. These cliché observations reflect random acts and living the high life. Christ came – and comes – at just the right time so we, frail and flawed humans, may live abundantly. Not next week, next year or when we get to Heaven, but now. So, what does that word “abundant” mean? Not being a theologian, I don’t recommend taking my thoughts as gospel, but I think it means making the most of who you are, where you are and what you are doing right now. You can never know what a difference you make by speaking a kind word, smiling instead of frowning, sharing instead of hoarding, laughing instead of crying, being faithful and having faith in the face of doubt. Live abundantly and pass it on.
Sharon Vander Meer 