I’ve joyfully touted to many people that I am a far better human being then I am a human doing. What I’m really referring to is my ability to spend more time being and less time doing.
There is always a hesitation from those that I share this introspection with. It’s as if this speck of my truth clings to a part of them they have long forgotten. It’s usually followed by a deep breath and something along the lines of, “I like that.”
I’ve trailed the discovery of this bit of wisdom to a place I’d seek solace as a little boy. I’m the seventh child out of ten and the most challenging space to find growing up was a place on my own, a place to be alone or as I like to think of it today, “all-one”.
We lived beside a large field and for some reason this field’s grass was never cut. As I remember it today, from my five or six year old’s vantage point, it felt like my “Field of Dreams”. Yet when I visit it today, on a sojourn to Calgary, it’s a mere half city block open lot.
The grass grew tall, to at least four feet high. I always thought it was wheat.
So in the midst of desiring great escapes from “doing” chores, “doing” sharing with siblings, “doing” politeness for the sake of not being shamed, I escaped to my grassy field, my place of beingness. All I did was lay down and watch the clouds roll by. I chose to be still.
It was my place to feel who I was and forget all the things I had to do. I could be free, I could be myself, I could be quiet.
I’m blessed now, as an adult, to remember the gifts I received from taking those “be-ing” breaks. By doing nothing the doing part of me drops away and the being part of me gradually comes alive. It has to because the doing is gone.
I love the gift of lessening what I need or want to do, it creates space for my human being.