ready, set, stop - Brief Article

Vegetarian Times, Nov, 2000 by Nava Atlas

When I ask friends how they are, they're more likely to describe how busy their lives are than to tell me how they're feeling. Whether they have children or not, work at home or in an office, all have calendars straining at the margins. I, too, plead guilty to a schedule bustling with busy-ness. Along with writing deadlines (for Vegetarian Times and my own cookbooks), I juggle caring for my family and home, and maintaining a web site, as well as a modest art career.

Lately, though, I've started to question what's behind this compulsion to fill each day to the brim with work and activity. Spiritual teachers, after all, remind us that we are human be-ings and not human do-ings. Zen-like aphorisms such as "Don't just do something, sit there!" are music to the ears of the overscheduled, yet the thought of simply being makes us feel self-indulgent.

For me, it took an act of nature to slow down. A bout with Lyme disease this past summer forced me to do virtually nothing for two weeks. This illness, transmitted by infected deer ticks, is highly curable but surprisingly debilitating, with an array of flulike symptoms. Overachiever that I am, I got them all, topped with blurred vision, which made it impossible to read, and a facial paralysis that made me want to hide.

In one fell swoop, my priorities shifted. I found myself with all the time in the world to do nothing--except allow my body to heal. But I soon grew tired of moping about on the couch and decided that if I had to do nothing, I might as well do it outdoors. Fortunately, this epiphany coincided with a string of dry, bright summer days. I spent much of the next week lying on a blanket watching backlit clouds as my sons played nearby, occasionally joining me. Together we bore witness to the shapes of angels and fantastic flying creatures (me) and Pokemon characters (them).

That week, watching clouds became a daily practice that induced a meditative frame of mind. For the first time in years, I let go of the need for daily achievement and became comfortable doing little and accomplishing less. My attention was focused mainly on what was right in front of me, which for these moments was a show of beautiful, billowing clouds.

After about three weeks, my stamina began to return. I felt light and empty, in a nice sort of way. Without a checklist of tasks, each day was like a blank canvas. Everyday pleasures, normally taken for granted, re-emerged vividly: taking walks down my tree-lined street, creating luscious meals with local produce, reading the latest Harry Potter adventure aloud with my sons, enjoying the company of friends and family on weekends. Even doing the laundry and relishing its fresh scent became an unexpected blessing, considering how much I normally grouse about it.

I can't deny having gone back to being busy and productive. But I've grown more conscious of which items on the "to-do" list are important and which lead to random busy-ness. Hard as it is to slow down, I want to show my children by example that every minute need not be scheduled and structured. They've learned this more easily than I have and appreciate quiet home-centered days. Or perhaps it is I who is learning from them.

My cloud-watching days taught me that if every waking minute is accounted for, I'll miss the small moments that give life texture and meaning. Now I try to just be where I am, even if only for an hour or two each week. This allows me to observe the wild turkeys in my yard, follow a butterfly down the road, watch the sun rise or set, marvel at a starry sky and, of course, watch the clouds. An occasional dose of non-doing lets life's rhythm grind to the moment-by-moment pace buried beneath frantic activity. If I can stop and do nothing once in a while, anyone can. Even you.

NAVA ATLAS is a longtime contributor to Vegetarian Times and the author of the forthcoming Vegetarian 5-Ingredient Gourmet (Broadway Books, 2001). Visit her web site: www.vegkitchen.com.