Do nothing – I followed Markus Almond’s advice. Except that a pen and a blank paper embraced the solace with me.
The ink as it first touches the inviting white space was revealing. It is thought coming to life. The fluidity of our hands and minds working in confluence – laser-beam focused on a single task of putting every stroke, letter, word, then thoughts – was just amusing.
Most days are usually mundane, mechanical even. Our bodies are built for habits, automatically making us get up, eat, work and snooze. Perhaps we have chips inside us designed to keep doing essentially a variation of the same things. Unwrapping novelty, excitement, and discovery requires an intentional muscle.
However, at this moment, catching myself feel, curiously prying into my consciousness, taking it apart, I felt I’ve put a finger on something tangible and freeing – my breath, the coldness, the idle bright screen, the windows brightly lit, my sweaty palms, the solidity of the table against my pulse.
Immersing one’s self into the fine details of a plain event has stretched the time table, if only for a short burst of moment.
The moment, indeed, doesn’t have to be special. It can as simple as sitting still.
But being curious about it, taking the time to slow down, to do one thing, or do nothing at all, is what will spear us back to calm and eventually, to clarity.
There are no deadlines or any a sense of urgency that could rob me of the present moment.
It’s only me sitting, dissecting the sensation, simultaneously wondering and grateful.
What doing nothing meant for me was indulging on the cellularity of one action.