To my busy bees
I confess a little - Sometimes I feel so untethered by my own freedom that it scares me.
Perhaps you are too busy to read this letter now.
Come back a little later maybe?
Rain check?
I’ve often wondered about the idea of being busy and the act of keeping oneself occupied all the time. Sometimes we may feel that we don’t have enough time to do all the things we want to be doing.
About 12 years ago, I wrote down my answers to a few questions from the Marcel Proust Questionnaire and tucked it in between the pages of my diary. I was fresh out of college and had absolutely no clue on what I wanted to do or become. What stands out to me the most today is the answer to my idea of happiness. I had written — “A bright sunny sunday to rest and have fun knowing that the week ahead is going to be occupied and busy (not very stressful thou’).”
That was my answer, verbatim.
I ascribe to this way thinking even to this day, although not as strongly as I once did. This is something I am hoping to unlearn and disown — the compulsive need to keep myself occupied always. I distinctly remember the anxiety I felt many years ago, in my early twenties, during the few months I spent home, soon after completing my college education. I couldn’t identify myself either a student or a working woman. “Oh god, what am I?”
from Laziness Into this hostile world, I bring a special laziness. I like to go swimming after cocktails! Then I put on sunglasses and write a poem. I guess I better make it hot and shiny. This can only lead to compliments. As usual, I've had my usual success. Now let me send myself some flowers. Mother was a famous bareback rider and Father was a pool shark. It makes the others crazy, the way I lounge! Someday, I'll be taken to jail in my tennis shorts. - Chelsey Minnis (read this first on Sonia's Poem of the Week)
I had all the time to have indulged in activities that I could have enjoyed. And yet, I was crippled with fear and over-thinking. I wanted to fit in, to join the rat race. In fact, I couldn’t wait to overwork myself. This, sadly, is the truth for anyone growing up in a working-class family. For anyone who is taught that education is for making money. That life is lived to climb up the ladder of “success”. The reality is even more challenging for people coming from socially disadvantaged backgrounds.
And so growing up, I never acquired a healthy way of taking a break. Of enjoying the pauses. Of actually doing nothing. During my most stressful years, soon after after work, I would turn on the TV and begin consuming content. This would mainly be trash TV but I’d be fully aware that I’m only doing it to avoid keeping the mind idle, silent. It was either that or sleep. What was I afraid of?
Are we really afraid of our own thoughts that we constantly have to find ways to avoid the static?
This podcast by the Atlantic called How to keep time actually helped me unravel my own thoughts on this topic.
They’re discussing a lot of interesting things like humble bragging, multi-tasking, “switching-cost” and how the wealthy have always had both money and time to waste. And thus, the concept of working all the time and juggling between tasks and taking up too many things at once fell inadvertently on the working class. Over time it became a status symbol — a clear sign of ambition and success.
Are we appearing busy to ourselves? Are we telling this to ourselves to procrastinate on other important things?
What struck me the most is when one of the speaker said that too much idleness could spiral us into developing existential dread. This, I have found to be true on more than one occasion. Isn’t that why people jump right back into work soon after facing a personal tragedy, as a means of coping mechanism. It only becomes dangerous when we use this as an excuse to cope from our own daily lives. What’s so scary about the lives that we are living?
I think a lot of people try to keep themselves busy because it’s a distraction from maybe some of the bigger existential questions that would arise about our life here on Earth and the time we spend here.
Imagine if Newton was busy replying to his correspondences when the apple fell? Lol Gravity would have had to wait.
I’ve had some of the most profound understandings about my own life only during the brief pauses I’ve allowed myself to have. I’ve done good work when I’ve taken the time to do one thing at a time. Multi-tasking, parallel tasking have all driven me towards a burnout quicker that I could spell that word.
Another most important question they raise is this — “What is the fear behind not having a schedule?”
Is it that you’ll have nothing to do or that you’ll be bored or you’ll then become agitated?
Perhaps that’s why we tend to over schedule ourselves? Turning our daily lives into a list of check boxes.
The idea of being bored deserves another letter on its own and I have some interesting insights into that topic myself. But let me tell you this. Ever since I gave up on a full time job, I’ve been able to (somewhat) bend time to suit my requirements. I’ve been able to plan a vacation without thinking of the number of paid-holidays, I’ve been able to make time for my family and I’ve been able to shed down some of those anxieties I’ve picked up over the years multi-tasking.
What I haven’t been able to shake off is the guilt I feel for spending my time on my own terms. I have no boss to chase me down on my deadlines, no one to write to, asking to be excused from work or school and no in-time or out-time to adhere to. Sometimes I feel so untethered by my own freedom that it scares me.
Lazy Raven
A lazy raven,
Walks across a fast paced road,
Why does he not fly?
-Kyle Hammer
(Read this first on Alipore Post)“What am I doing? Something must be wrong” says a voice inside. Sometime last year I went to the zoo on a Thursday. I saw hippos being fed sweetgrass and the elephants taking a mud bath. I was also wrecked with guilt for not being at work on a workday, for not accomplishing something on a Thursday afternoon. When everyone else was hard at work, doing something, keeping busy, I was peering over someone’s shoulder to get a better view of the lion and the lioness basking under the sun on a perfectly clear, sunny Thursday afternoon.
And so, understandably, I am going to leave you with this poem and a little extra right after that.
Poem For People That Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry
Relax. This won’t last long.
Or if it does, or if the lines
make you sleepy or bored,
give in to sleep, turn on
the T.V., deal the cards.
This poem is built to withstand
such things. Its feelings
cannot be hurt. They exist
somewhere in the poet,
and I am far away.
Pick it up anytime. Start it
in the middle if you wish.
It is as approachable as melodrama,
and can offer you violence
if it is violence you like. Look,
there’s a man on a sidewalk;
the way his leg is quivering
he’ll never be the same again.
This is your poem
and I know you’re busy at the office
or the kids are into your last nerve.
Maybe it’s sex you’ve always wanted.
Well, they lie together
like the party’s unbuttoned coats,
slumped on the bed
waiting for drunken arms to move them.
I don’t think you want me to go on;
everyone has his expectations, but this
is a poem for the entire family.
Right now, Budweiser
is dripping from a waterfall,
deodorants are hissing into armpits
of people you resemble,
and the two lovers are dressing now,
saying farewell.
I don’t know what music this poem
can come up with, but clearly
it’s needed. For it’s apparent
they will never see each other again
and we need music for this
because there was never music when he or she
left you standing on the corner.
You see, I want this poem to be nicer
than life. I want you to look at it
when anxiety zigzags your stomach
and the last tranquilizer is gone
and you need someone to tell you
I’ll be here when you want me
like the sound inside a shell.
The poem is saying that to you now.
But don’t give anything for this poem.
It doesn’t expect much. It will never say more
than listening can explain.
Just keep it in your attache case
or in your house. And if you’re not asleep
by now, or bored beyond sense,
the poem wants you to laugh. Laugh at
yourself, laugh at this poem, at all poetry.
Come on:
Good. Now here’s what poetry can do.
Imagine yourself a caterpillar.
There’s an awful shrug and, suddenly,
you’re beautiful for as long as you live.
- Stephen Dunn
(From Read a little poetry)No goodbye without this beautiful gift for you.
செம்மான் மகளைத் திருடும் திருடன் பெம்மான் முருகன் பிறவான் இறவான் "சும்மா இரு, சொல்லற" என்றலுமே அம்மா பொருள் ஒன்றும் அறிந்திலனே!
This Tamil poem is by Saint-poet Arunagiri Nathar who lived during the 14th century. I won’t expand more on this right here because it would be unjust to do so. Arunagiri Nathar has written brilliant, rich poems and songs dedicated to god Murugan and this is from one of his compositions. This particular poem is often quoted and is quite popular among Tamil speakers who know their literature. The highlighted portion —சும்மா இரு, சொல்லற / summa iru, sol ara (stay idle, without any thought, without any words) — is among the highest canons of human existence. Stay, still.
The line that follows is even more beautiful, for in it the poet confesses — “Oh! how can I ever begin to understand the meaning of it!”
(leaving this beautiful composition of those verses by singer Pradeep Kumar here for you. It’s from a film, but still…)
Don’t be so busy, lover.
Write to you sooner,
A
Loved, loved, loved reading this :)